


Not Today, Not Tomorrow

by JustRamblinOn



Series: Just A Survivor [5]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, I love you guys but I suck at tagging, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Pregnancy, Violence, all the usual, good things do happen, past miscarrige/pregnancy loss, past rape/non con, you know what Im like by now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-01-04 19:25:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 79
Words: 163,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18350144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustRamblinOn/pseuds/JustRamblinOn
Summary: Alexandria Safe Zone:You're in charge of Alexandria now. So everyone will get to survive, and thrive.Right? Wrong.Continuing the Just A Survivor Series, starting season six!





	1. Start with a Bang

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you everyone for sticking with me this long!  
> This has the potential to be the last part of the story; though there will be a Daryl companion piece to go with it as usual. If it gets too long, though, there might be more than one! 
> 
> Love to all of you; thank you so much for all the comments and kudos on this journey so far! 
> 
>  
> 
> Cannon typical violence  
> cannon divergence

You stood beside Rick, on top of a car, staring down into the quarry at the obscene number of walkers milling around inside. Semi trucks blocked the entrances, parked at an angle to each other, and you had serious questions about who the fuck had set all this up. 

You still weren't entirely certain it hadn't been the Alexandrians. 

Maybe that was just you being paranoid, but after that little attempted insurgence by one of the new guys- Collin? Carter? something with a C- that had come a little too close to killing Eugene, you were on edge again. 

Though the guy's face as you'd sneered down at him, asking if he really thought he was going to take this place from you and yours? That was a pleasant memory. 

The amusement in Rick's voice as he'd called you off, and the fear in Deanna's eyes when you'd shrugged, spun Rick's gun in your hand, and shoved it back into Rick's holster were also pretty good. 

You'd worked on setting all this up for two weeks, keeping watchers on the quarry and everyone's hands on deck. Today was the test run, working through the entire plan, just minus the walkers. 

You tuned Rick out while he called out the first few steps of the plan to the group below, preferring to watch people's faces instead. Your eyes kept going to Daryl, standing there with his crossbow over his shoulder and his hair in his eyes. 

He was looking at you too, and since only you and Rick were facing him, he kept winking at you and giving you slow once-overs every time you looked his way. He was gonna make you blush or laugh or something, and you'd lose all credibility in front of this ragtag band of miscreants. 

Though from the way Merle's shoulders were shaking as he leaned against one of the vehicles your crew had arrived in, he knew what Daryl was doing and you might have been blushing already. 

Damn Dixons. 

You glanced over the others, annoyed by the presence of Collin-Carter-Whatever and by Glenn's maybe-enemy maybe-friend Nicholas- or as you'd named him, Mr. Punchable. Glenn had warned him not to leave Alexandria, and the night you and Rick had casually taken over the place with some theatrics and an accidental death, Mr. Punchable had gone out anyway, Glenn had followed, and some sort of shit had gone down that had nearly gotten both of them killed. 

And you weren't convinced that it went the way Glenn said it did, though you left it alone at his insistence. But you had your eye on Mr. Punchable. 

Abraham and Sasha were there, and while Sasha was doing better, she was still fucked up six ways from Sunday over Bob and Tyreese. You didn't blame her, but you also weren't entirely sure you trusted her either. With Abraham there, you had a little more confidence, but honestly? Big Red was a loose damn cannon too. 

Merle shoved up from the car he was leaning against casually, his eyes widening. You whipped around, grabbing Rick's arm, in time to see the rock under one of the trucks blocking the other exit begin to crumble. 

Shit, shit, shit, shit- 

The whole damn truck went crashing down. 

"Rick..." You watched as the walkers started moving out of the quarry. 

"Son of a bitch!" Rick muttered. "We gotta do this now!" 

"Yep," you agreed grimly, and the two of you were leaping down. 

Your people gathered around you calmly, Daryl reaching your side and putting a hand on your shoulder as Glenn, Sasha, Abraham, Michonne, and Merle formed up around you. The Alexandrians weren't doing anywhere near as well, Collin-Carter-Whatever panicking and screaming about how you weren't ready before your people even had a chance to talk. 

The walkers were pushing against the trucks at your exit now, and you knew they would be coming through soon. 

"Rick, let's go!" you snapped, and pointed Daryl toward the gap between the trucks. He had his crossbow up and aimed at the dead bastard trying to get through, and you turned back to Rick. 

"Tobin's group, get going!" he called, and Tobin's people set off at a dead run. 

"Abraham, Sasha," you said, turning to them, and Big Red gave you a feral grin. 

"Damn straight, we'll do this live!" He answered you with a slap on your back, and he and Sasha were heading toward their car. 

"Meet Dixon at red, let him take 'em through the gauntlet," you advised, and Rick nodded. Daryl tossed his head in agreement, giving you a long look. 

"Rick, I'll hit the tractor place," Glenn offered, sweeping up a bag. 

"Good. Who else?" Rick snapped, and this was the part of the plan that hadn't been one hundred percent decided. 

You looked at Merle, and he shook his head. 

"No, little sister. You gotta get your ass back to Alexandria like we planned. I'll go with ol' Speed Racer here," he said bluntly, and Rick gave you a guilty look. 

"He's right. I'd rather have you out here, but we need someone back home. Just in case." 

You gave a frustrated sigh, but agreed. "I'll stick with you for awhile then, like we talked about. Make sure the parade gets going good. Then I'll head back home." 

Rick gave you a nod, and then Collin-Carter-Whoever was yelling at Rick about how it was supposed to be a dry run. 

"You want to go back? Go back! We're finishing this!" you snapped at him, shoving past him to Daryl's side. 

"Rick, they're coming!" you snapped as one of the walkers started squeezing through the gap, scraping off huge bloody chunks of his rotting face as he came. "Dixon, be careful," you told Daryl lowly, and he flashed you a cocky grin. 

"See ya at home, woman. Love ya. Now get back to Rick," he told you, firing at the walker as it made it through. 

"Asshole," you muttered cheerfully at him, kissing his cheek and running for Rick's side. 

"They're headed for home, we don't have a choice. Ready the flares!" you yelled to the waiting Alexandrians. 

Rick signaled Tobin, and he started the semi, pulling it away so the walkers could come out as your people fired flares off to get the attention of the rest of the undead assholes in the quarry. 

Daryl's motorcycle revved, and you tried not to watch as he got close to the lead walkers and started them off. 

This was going to be a bitch of a day. 

 

"You all have your assignments," Rick said into the radio as your group ran through the trees. "You know where to rendezvous. Daryl leads them out. Sasha and Abraham join him at the bottom of the hill. Glenn, you hit us when you take care of the walkers at the tractor place. That's the one thing we've gotta get ahead of. Everyone, just keep your heads. Keep up." 

You, Rick, Michonne, and Morgan came out of the trees behind the wall you'd built at orange. Rick pulled out the walkie again, checked in with Glenn as you walked up. He handed you a flare gun as the four of you stared at the wall and the vehicles behind it. 

The orange balloons drifted in the slight breeze, and the silence weighed heavily in the air. 

"It'll hold," Rick said, and you snorted. 

"That's good," Michonne said dryly. "You know, considering where we're standing." 

You laughed outright at that one, and Morgan gave you an amused glance. 

The Monk- as you'd dubbed him about two seconds after Daryl and Merle had walked into that bloodbath of a meeting with him at their sides- was an interesting addition to your motley crew. Rick wanted so badly to trust him that he fooled himself into believing he did, but you saw the little ways his actual feelings came out.  
You didn't blame Rick for it one bit. The last time Rick had seen the Monk, he'd been full-throttle crazy- writing on the walls, spikes with impaled walkers all over the place, ranting about needing to 'clear'. Whatever that meant. 

You hadn't been with them when Rick found him, but you'd heard the story from Carl enough times to know that you didn't completely believe that guy and the Monk who stood calmly, walking stick in hand and 'all life is precious' policy firmly in place, were one and the same. But what did you know? People could change. 

Hell, look at you. You'd started out all talk about not being judge and jury, about needing laws and committees and rules for civilization. About not just killing anyone and everyone who crossed you, and now you'd been actually considering putting a bullet in Collin-Carter-Whatever's brain for only talking about trying to kick your people out. 

You had more blood on your hands now- both literally and figuratively- than you really wanted to think about too hard, and the kicker was? You didn't give a shit.  
Everybody you'd made dead you'd have killed again in a heartbeat. Maybe some more of them as well. 

So yeah, people could change. 

"Michonne?" he asked now, and all three of you glanced at him. 

"Yeah?" 

"When you were back in that place. Where I lived. Did you take one of my protein bars?" he asked seriously, and you and Rick exchanged amused glances as Michonne lied through her teeth. 

You'd heard the story enough to know she damn well had, but there she was, looking all innocent as she told him no. 

"See, I coulda sworn there was one more peanut butter left," Morgan continued, and you did laugh as Michonne gave a deep sigh. 

"Man, that's how it is, isn't it?" she said philosophically. "You always think there's one more peanut butter left." 

 

You waited. 

Thankfully, it was only almost unendurably long before you heard the thrum of Daryl's bike and the moaning hisses of the walkers that followed, and you were grinning at your people as you stepped up to the wall you'd built. 

You fired your flares in the direction you wanted them to go, forcing them west. You eyed the wall you'd built to block the second half of the intersection of Marshal and Redding, and you really, really hoped Rick was right. Walkers bounced off of the wall, and the four of you spread out along it, added insurance in case the unthinkable happened. 

If the wall fell, the four of you would have to hold back the tide just long enough for someone to get a message to Alexandria.

You wished you could catch as glimpse of Daryl, but if any of you poked your noses around the wall, you'd distract the herd, and you couldn't have that.

You just had to trust him to do his job and stay alive. 

 

Then they were clear, having made the turn successfully, and you were following alongside them through the woods to the next checkpoint. The plan was, once they were well on the way, past a few obstacles and far enough out, everyone but the leaders- Daryl on his bike, Sasha and Abraham in their car- would be able to fall back, and they'd just shuffle along until they were fifty miles out, and the lead three could peel off and let the walkers just wander on their way. 

Home would be safe. 

That was the plan, anyway. 

Rick whistled as Glenn and Merle's group came running up through the trees, and you flashed Merle a thumbs up. He scowled at you. 

"What're ya still doin' out here, darlin'?" he asked. 

"My job, big brother," you fired back cheerfully. "Tractor store?" 

"Handled," he said gruffly, and then you were stepping up to Collin-Carter-Whatever's side at yellow, watching the walkers parade past. 

"It's working," Collin-Carter-Whatever said to Rick. "You were right." 

You rolled your eyes at Merle and kept watching the walkers. The Alexandrians in Tobin's group were untried. You'd been giving some casual archery and knife work lessons over the past week or so, but they weren't ready for a herd like this. 

You hadn't had any choices, however, because you needed bodies out here and you'd needed bodies at home. You just didn't have enough of your own hardened, trained, ruthless people to do all the jobs, no matter how much you might have preferred it to be so. 

So here you were, for the final stage of the plan. Once you got them past yellow, the close in work would be done, and you'd be taking Tobin's group back to Alexandria. You'd meet up with Carl and Carol and Maggie, give a report, and man the walls. 

You were worried about the W people, whoever it was that had been carving W's into the heads of walkers and using walkers to set traps for people. That's how Daryl, Merle, and Aaron had run into the Monk in the first place- they'd walked right into a trap and been surrounded by walkers. 

Merle had confessed to you privately that Daryl'd seriously considered sacrificing himself so the other two could get away. You'd been ready to flip holy shit on your husband, but Merle'd calmed you down. The Monk had given them an exit, and you'd been immensely grateful. 

Despite your distrust of the Alexandrians, you were pretty sure the quarry had been another of those traps, set to collect walkers and unleash them on the unsuspecting Alexandrians at some point in the future. You wished you'd found it sooner, before the herd had grown so big from walkers falling into the quarry that your people couldn't handle it on their own. 

You'd considered it, saw Rick consider it. If you'd been able to get your hands on some explosives, you might have just chucked a homemade bomb down there and watched the bloody fireworks. 

Sadly, no one had had any C4 available, and you'd determined that there were too many to try to shoot them all. You'd run out of bullets and you'd still have been vulnerable. 

So here you were, with a bunch of untrained city dwellers, praying everything went according to plan. 

And bracing yourself for if it didn't.


	2. Stay Alive, Idiots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
> cannon divergence

Yeah, it didn't. As usual. 

"We need to fan out along the length of this thing. Cops at a parade, right? Glenn, Merle, you take the back- you've got the other walkie. Michone, Morgan, take the middle. YN, you and I'll take the front, but once we get close to green-" Rick gave you a hard look. 

"Yeah, yeah, I know- I'm gone," you muttered. 

"I'll take point," Collin-Carter-Whatever said, and he was gone before you could do more than eye roll. 

 

Two minutes.

That's how long it took for shit to go wrong. 

The walkers were fine, marching along in solid undead formation, and you were behind Rick, a shadow in the trees honestly thinking you'd be bored. Your entire operation was set up too damn slick. 

And then the screaming started. 

You and Rick took off for the source, because of course it was goddamn Collin-Carter-Whatever, screaming his head off and drawing the walkers' attention down the length of the parade. 

You know, the exact opposite of his job. 

 

Turns out the dumbass got himself bitten on the face by a walker stuck in a tree. 

The walker was literally trapped in the tree and Collin-Carter-Whatever walked his face into reach of its jaws. 

Who does that? 

This is someone Deanna sent out on supply runs? 

"Rick, they're breaking off," you snapped at him, and he gave you a look over his shoulder as he stood with his hands pressed to the idiot's cheek, trying to stop the bleeding and the screaming. 

Well, he wasn't trying hard enough. 

You snatched the radio from his belt. "Tobin, fire your guns and draw them back to the road! We've got the source handled. Keep them on track!" 

You tossed the radio in Rick's direction as he was trying to convince Collin-Carter-Whatever to shut the fuck up, and you handled the tree walker. 

"Oh, God, I'm dead!" the poor asshole screamed, and you dropped to your knees at his side, shoved Rick's hands away, and thrust your walker-bloodied knife smoothly into the back of his neck. 

"Yeah, you are," you said grimly, pulling it back out. 

"It's working! The gunfire's drawing them back to the road!" Tobin's voice came over the radio, and you looked up to see faces around you. 

Rick gave you a nod, something grateful in his eyes, and you nodded back. But the Monk was looking at you like he was disappointed. 

Well too bad, buttercup. Sometimes people just had to die. 

"You got 'em, Tobin," Rick said softly into the radio as the walkers that had been heading your way from the road turned back toward the sound of gunfire. 

"Copy that. What was that screaming?" 

Michonne looked a little sick as you wiped your knife on Collin-Carter-Whatever's shirt and sheathed it again. 

"It was Carter. He got bit, right in the face. We stopped him," Rick responded. 

Silence from the radio. 

"We have a good hour before we get them to green, hand them off to Daryl, Sasha, and Abraham. YN, you should head back to Alexandria. Let them know what's happening. They don't know we're doing this now," Rick said, standing close to you. 

You gave him a level look. "You pissed at me for handling the guy?" you asked him, seriously. 

"No," he said shortly, dipping his head and looking up a little into your eyes the way he did when he was serious about something. "I'm grateful. But home needs to be warned." 

You ground your teeth, but honestly? You couldn't argue with that logic. Alexandria didn't know that the walkers were on the move already. 

"I'll go," the Monk said, and you sighed. 

"Fine, fine; I'm going. You can come with," you told him, and gave Rick and Michonne a long look. "Stay alive, idiots," you said with a fond smile. 

"Always," Rick agreed, giving your shoulder a squeeze. Michonne just smiled at you. 

 

You collected Morgan with a gesture, and the two of you set off at a rapid pace. 

"So what's your story, Monk?" you asked him as you moved, and he gave you a small smile. 

"What do you mean?" 

"I mean, you saved Rick's bacon way back at the beginning of all things- which I am personally very grateful for, considering the number of times he's subsequently saved mine- then the last time he saw you, you were mayor of Crazytown, a place Rick seems to enjoy taking the occasional vacation to himself, so no judgement, dude. Now you're all Buddhist Monk with a hefty side of badass, and I'm just- I don't know, like how?" You waved one hand in the air, huffing out your words as you hiked. 

If you were getting home to warn them, you were gonna get home to warn them. 

Besides, you needed to see if Serial-killer Susie- aka Carol- had freaked out any of the natives yet. You were really, really worried about her these days. 

So was Merle, and it was probably about three quarters of the reason Merle'd chosen to stay in Alexandria instead of going with Daryl and Aaron on their people seeking excursions. Watching Merle and Carol cautiously explore whatever it was between them was a joy you didn't think you'd ever get tired of, though they weren't really taking it public yet- it was just you and Daryl who knew anything about the two of them. 

At least, as far as you knew, because anyone with eyes should have been able to see the gaga between them when they were together. 

"I found a friend. He taught me some things. Gave me this stick," Morgan answered your question. "Taught me that all life is precious. It helped, and now I'm not in Crazytown anymore." 

"All life? What about the walkers? According to the doctor at the CDC, what they have is some semblance of life; the disease or force or whatever it is that reanimates them simply targets the most primal part of the brain, and leaves out the rest. So, is what they have life that is precious?" You asked him seriously, honestly curious what his philosophy was. You already knew he didn't eat meat, and you'd asked about cheese. 

He'd told you that if he could find some cheese, he'd have to figure that one out. 

You wondered what had happened to Bessie, the damn goat you'd brought back to Rick before the prison fell. 

Yeah, she'd probably been a walker's chew toy. 

Poor Bessie. 

"I'm not-" Morgan started to respond. 

A horn cut him off. 

A loud, blaring, angry horn, coming from home. 

That was probably attracting every damn walker off the road behind you. 

You shot an agonized look from Morgan to home toward where you knew Rick and the others were. 

Home or walkers? Home or walkers? 

"Alexandria needs your hands more than Rick does!" Morgan snapped, and that did it. 

You took off at a dead run, sprinting for one of your emergency paths in and out of Alexandria. You hadn't really wanted to share it with the Monk- he wasn't a member of your family quite yet- but he was right. 

They needed you there, and they needed you there fast.


	3. Your Favorite Badass Serial Killer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
> cannon divergence

You came out of the woods nearer the gate than you'd intended, following the sound of the horn as you got closer. 

You slowed from your run to come at it silent, unseen, and you had to give the Monk props- he could move in the woods. He stuck to your back the whole time, and he while he wasn't Dixon silent, he didn't do too badly either. 

There was a truck, a semi, slammed into the walls. It's horn was going, and there, trying ineffectively to do something about the driver, was Spencer Monroe, Deanna's son. 

You came up the other side of the truck, throwing open the passenger door and sinking your knife into the driver's brain through the base of his neck. You yanked the body off the dash and stopped the horn while Spencer just stared with wide eyes. 

"What the hell happened?" you snapped at him as you felt Morgan come up to your side. 

"Someone, a group, they got inside the walls," he said, slowly, and your blood ran cold. 

Inside the walls. With all those sheep you were trying to protect, with the children and the soccer moms and Judith. 

Shit, shit, shit. 

"We have to get in there," you snapped, already trying to come up with a plan. "You coming?" you tossed to Spencer, and he just looked at you. 

You looked back, sneering at him in disbelief. 

It was Morgan who spoke, one word of advice from your elbow. "Hide." 

 

You brought Morgan in through your back route, him giving you a questioning glance as you followed the wall away from the semi. 

"Back door," you said shortly, and then you were climbing up a tree. 

When you were over the wall, you took a moment to glance around. There was fire somewhere, because there was smoke, and the charred smell of roasting human flesh lingered faintly in the air. 

It was a smell you were never going to forget, and your stomach heaved, once, before you shook it off and got into motion. 

You needed to make your way to the armory. You and the Monk were running together, through the streets, when you encountered the first of the assholes. 

He had a W on his forehead. 

Son of a bitch! 

Morgan whipped up his stick, obviously planning on playing with the guy and trying to keep him freaking alive, but you knew none of you had time for that shit. You were about to drop the guy when a figure in a long black coat with a hood came out of nowhere and did it for you. 

You knew her immediately. 

"Carol. What's up?" you said conversationally, and she yanked down the bandanna that covered the lower half of her face, dipping her fingers into the blood of the guy at her feet. 

"We have to get to the armory," she said, drawing a W on her own forehead in blood. 

That was your favorite badass serial killer. 

"Damn right we do," you agreed. 

"I could have stopped him!" Morgan snapped, and you and Carol exchanged a look. 

"The others back?" she asked. 

"No. We're live. Horn probably diverted some of the walkers," you told her shortly. 

"You're doing it now?" 

"Had to," you said with a shrug. "Got another of those? And how many of them, can you tell?" 

"They don't have guns. Not sure how many. If they had guns, they'd be using them. If we keep moving, this might work," she added, pulling a chain out from around the waist of the dead guy. 

"I like how you think," you said grimly. 

"We don't have to kill people!" Morgan snapped, and you looked at him finally, with a long sigh. 

"Maybe you don't," you agreed. "But I do. We do. Guard the gate. Make sure it stays closed. Carol and I will handle this." 

He gave you a long, hard look, but finally nodded, once. 

 

Carol wrapped the chain around your wrists, loosely, and your lips twitched, but you chose not to crack any jokes. 

She saw it in your eyes anyway, and she rolled hers at you. You grinned as she pulled the bandanna back over her face, and gave you a nod. 

Alright. Let's do this thing. 

You walked through the streets briskly behind her, heart pounding as the adrenaline flooded your system. It was working, as you passed a few of these assholes who were killing your people. 

"Nice catch, Aphid!" someone congratulated Carol, and you wondered who she'd gotten the coat from. 

You were right there when it fell apart. 

"Hey, Aphid, where'd you get the gun?" a woman asked, and Carol whipped the gun in her hand up and shot the woman and her companion. 

You pulled your hands out of the chains and whipped out your own gun, dropping the three who came out of Deanna's townhouse at that precise moment as Carol made a dash for the steps down to the armory. 

You followed, and she took dropped the one that was already there. 

"You got this?" you snapped at her, and she waved you off. 

"I'm good. Where you headed?" she asked as you snatched one of the assault rifles and a second handgun from the wall of guns. The handgun went into your belt, at your back, and you tossed your shirt down over it. 

The rifle stayed in your hands. 

You smiled at her grimly. "Everywhere." 

 

Then you were out the door and back in the streets, ready to kick some ass and take some names. 

People were dying, which meant there were going to be walkers rising soon enough. You needed to get the people dealt with first. 

You saw the man over Father Gabriel and seriously considered just letting him die. 

But that wasn't you, no matter how casual you felt about death these days. 

So you saved him, and you shoved him in the direction of Carol and the armory. "Hide, moron," you snapped, and you were moving again. 

 

You left the streets to go between houses, and you slung the rifle to your back as you came up on the next of the W assholes. His back was to you, and he was hacking the motherfucking arms off what had once been an Alexandrian. 

Son of a bitch. 

You pulled your knife and crept soundlessly behind him. You planted your feet, grabbed him under the chin from behind, and slit his throat so he couldn't scream. As the blood poured over your hand, you reversed your swing and sunk the knife into his temple with a grunt. 

He fell and you flung the excess blood from your knife and moved on. 

 

You saw Maggie running through the streets, and called her name. 

"Find Carol; I left her at the armory," you hissed to her, and she nodded. You pulled the handgun from your back and tossed it to her, and she smiled at you grimly. 

The third of the W assholes went down with a head shot, and that drew the fourth. She was smarter than the first two, faster on her feet, and she took you down from the side while you were trying to turn. 

She got in a solid hit that split your lip a little, but then you had her guts on your hands as she stared at you, eyes wide, from where she bent over you. You tossed her away and scrambled to your feet, and now you were going to need new clothes, damn it. 

You found Rosita and Aaron next, and Carol was obviously out of the armory, since they had guns. 

You gave them a nod, and they carried on, checking the interiors of houses. 

You had a more specific destination in mind. 

 

You were on your own street, and now you were running as you saw the body outside Rick's house. 

You hit the steps two at a time, and as you flung open the door you were met with- 

"Drop- YN?" 

"Hey Grimes," you said with a grin as Carl lowered the gun he'd had aimed square at your face. He just stared for a minute. You shrugged. 

"Sorry, I'm a mess. You good? Little Grimes?" You asked urgently. 

His lips quirked up a little. "We're good. Had a moment, out there. Saved Ron, but he wouldn't stay, said he had to find his mom. And Enid's- Enid was here," he added, looking around suddenly. 

"Good," you said, and leaned forward for a quick hug. "Stay here with your sister. I'll be back soon. From the sounds of things, we're wrapping up out there." 

"Is my dad back?" Carl asked as you turned to go, hearing shots in the distance. 

Shit, you'd forgotten. 

"No, kid; sorry. In all the mess, I forgot. They're on walker parade. We had to do it live; shit happened," you told him, and his eyes went wide, but he nodded. 

"I've got to go. Stay put; stay sharp, ok?" you told him, and he nodded. 

Then you were back out the door.


	4. Plan Went To Shit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
> cannon divergence  
> major character death (or is it?)

You batted cleanup, dropping the dead who were starting to rise and making sure the rest of them wouldn't, eventually meeting up with Maggie, Spencer, and Deanna and then Aaron and Rosita. Finally, outside the infirmary, you found Tara and Eric and Eugene, blood on their hands and eyes exhausted and troubled. They'd been with Denise, the new doctor, trying to save a life. 

They hadn't succeeded. 

You didn't see Carol or Morgan, but you were a little too busy to worry about them at the moment. They could take care of themselves.

 

You weren't entirely certain when Michonne and Heath had come back with a wounded Scott, but you were glad they'd made it. 

Until Michonne saw you and Maggie and her face twisted and her eyes closed for a moment. 

Son of a bitch. Something had happened out there, and it wasn't going to be good. 

 

You were right. 

You stood on the platform, staring sightlessly at the road, while your people moved bodies below you, and, no doubt, cast anxious glances your way. There was another threat coming, if Michonne was right, and you needed to get ready for it. 

You needed to be ready to fight.

But-

-The town was overrun. They split off with Nicholas. Glenn had this idea that if he lit a fire, it would stop the walkers from coming here. I tried to go instead. I wanted to. The fire never got lit. We had to keep going. I'm sorry. They said if they got stuck out there, they would find a way to send us a signal.- 

Michonne's voice had been soft, gentle, sorrowful as she talked to you and Maggie and Tara.

Merle. 

Merle and Glenn were gone; you felt it no matter what Michonne tried to say about hope and not being sure. 

They were gone. 

 

You couldn't comprehend it. 

You'd been here before, alone and believing they were dead- believing everyone was dead. 

And then Merle had come, your larger than life asshole loudmouth brother-in-law, and you'd thought he was an hallucination. You'd questioned if he was real, asked him if seeing visions of Merle was just what happened when you took the Dixon name. He'd laughed his ass off at the idea of being a guardian angel, but- 

He'd been there, by your side or just behind you, since the day he'd kidnapped you and Glenn and Maggie and taken you to the Governor. He'd gotten you and Daryl out, and yeah he'd broken your rib in the process, but what did that matter in the grand scheme of things? 

He was the one who had married you and Daryl, who had saved your ass more times than you could count, who had held you when you cried over the baby you lost, who had stitched up your wounds. He was the one who had driven you forward when you would have given up on ever finding any of your people again, who had stayed by your side and told you it would be ok when you and Daryl had almost been done. 

He'd taken hits for you and egged you on and watched your back and held your hand. 

And now he was gone. 

 

Tears were rolling down your cheeks and you were barely keeping your head above water, and you didn't care who could see you standing there, shoulders shaking in the sunlight as you held in the sobs. 

You should have stayed. 

You should have stayed out there with them; made sure the walkers were taken care of. 

It didn't matter that you'd done good here; that you'd saved lives and you were going to be needed to save even more if the back half of the herd was on a collision course for Alexandria like Michonne thought. 

Your brother had needed you, and you hadn't been there for him. 

How in the hell were you going to tell Carol? 

Or- even worse- Daryl? 

Losing Merle a second time would break him, and he was only barely, barely getting over Beth's death. 

If Beth had nearly broken the two of you, what would losing Merle do?

 

"Open the gate! Open the gate now!" 

Rick's voice sounded terrified, and that wasn't right at all. 

You opened the eyes you hadn't known you'd closed, and your heart just stopped beating for a moment. 

He was running, steps ahead of the walkers. 

Your gun was in your hands before you could think, and as Rick dodged the outstretched arms of a walker coming out of the ruins, you dropped the one that had gained ground behind him. His eyes were wild and sweat was pouring off him as he looked up at you and didn't slow down. 

"Open the goddamn gate!" you screamed over your shoulder, and Michonne came at a dead run, scrambling for the gate as Rick approached. 

He slid through only steps ahead of the herd, even with you dropping the closest ones, and Michonne and Maggie slammed the gate shut. 

Rick dropped to his knees, gasping, as you jumped from the platform, rolled, and came up to their group. Deanna and Tobin had joined Maggie and Michonne, all crowded around Rick. Deanna's eyes were wide and glassy as she stared at the dead grouped at the gate, arms reaching through the bars and snarling. 

You sighed, rolled your eyes, and grabbed the second half of the gate, pulling it closed and blocking the view of the dead. 

"What the hell happened out there, Rick?" you asked finally as no one else spoke. 

"Plan went to shit," he said shortly, still trying to catch his breath, and you laughed humorlessly. 

"No shit," you said dryly. 

 

You and Rick held a hurried conference as you headed home. Maggie, Michonne, and Deanna were gathering the able-bodied for a briefing while you and Rick went to clean up a little and Rick checked on Carl and Judith. 

You'd asked why you needed to clean up when you obviously had more work to do, and Tara had given you an amused look. 

"Dude, you have fresh guts on you. Just go. Change your shirt at the very least, but these guys aren't exactly going anywhere," she's said, and you'd sighed but agreed. 

Now Rick filled you in rapidly- the horn, their attempts at getting the herd back on track, him reaching the RV but then being attacked by the W people. He'd killed them all, but they'd taken out the RV in the process. 

So he'd run, but the herd had followed. 

You wondered how the W people had escaped, and privately harbored suspicions about Morgan. You hadn't seen the Monk again since you'd told him to secure the gate. 

You told Rick what you knew about what had happened here, and that Carl and Judith were fine. He'd looked so damn relieved and grateful, you'd wanted to cry. 

Then he'd asked about Glenn and Merle, and you'd just shrugged. 

"Son of a bitch," he whispered, angrily, and you'd nodded. 

You peeled out of your bloody clothes, jumped into the shower without waiting for hot water, and swiped off the worst of the mess. Then you'd thrown on clean jeans and a tank, grabbed your weapons, and were back out the door. 

You and Rick hit the road at the same moment, and you flashed him a crooked grin. 

He just reached for you as the two of you fell into step, and you leaned into his side for a moment as he threw an arm around you. 

 

By the time you got back to the wall, people were gathered and you and Rick were composed and ready. 

"You can hear it," Rick began before you even made it all the way into the crowd. "Some of you even saw it. They got back here, half of them. Still enough to surround us twenty deep. Look, I know you're scared. You haven't seen anything like this. You haven't been through anything like this." 

"We're safe for now," you said, as Rick made his way into the center of the group, commanding everyone's attention. You stayed a little apart, not able to be the soft, open leader they needed right now. "The panel the truck hit seems intact, and we've reinforced it just in case. Either way, the wall's gonna hold together. Can you?" 

"The others will be back," Rick said. 

You felt the stab in the heart and saw Maggie jerk from the corner of your eye. 

Not all of them would be. 

"Daryl, Abraham, Sasha- they have vehicles," Rick continued. "They're going to lead them away, just like the others." 

Rick looked Maggie and then you dead in the eyes. "And Glenn and Nicholas and Merle are gonna walk right through those gates after them. They know what they're doing, and we know what we need to do." 

You stared at him, and fury filled you. 

How dare he? 

He knew better than any of these sheep here- Glenn and Merle? 

They were gone. 

They were gone, but you had a job to do. 

"Keep noise to a minimum. Draw the blinds at night, or better yet, keep the lights off. Try to make this place as quiet as a graveyard, see if they move on." 

"This place is a graveyard," Francine said, and you whirled around and stalked over to her. 

You were practically shaking as you stood in front of her. 

"Are you alive?" you spat out, and Carl came to your side. 

She nodded, swallowing hard at the look in your eyes. 

"And you- are you alive?" you turned and asked Tobin. He nodded, once. 

"Carl's alive. Ron's alive. Jessie and Sam are alive, aren't they? And Tara and Rosita and Maggie. Spencer and Deanna. Judith and Enid. And Rick and I are goddamn well alive," you were spitting the words out now, and everyone was looking at you oddly. "Yeah, we lost some people. Good people, people we love- people we loved. But we're alive, and you have to trust Rick and I keep you that way!" 

Carl put his hand on your shoulder, and you realized you were crying again. 

Goddamn it. 

"The quarry broke open, and those walkers were headed this way. All of them," Aaron spoke calmly behind you, his voice controlled. 

You closed your eyes and listened, fighting hard to keep it together. Carl kept his hand on your shoulder and squeezed hard. 

"The plan that Rick and YN put into place? Stopped that from happening. He got half of them away. I was out there, recruiting with Daryl and Merle. I wanted to get into a cannery and scavenge, and Daryl wanted to keep looking for people. We did what I wanted, and we wound up in a trap set by those people, the ones who came in here. And I- I lost my pack. They must have followed our tracks," he said, and his voice caught. 

"Those people who attacked us- they found there way back here because of me. Don't blame Rick or YN for this. Blame me," he finished. 

"There'll be more to talk about," Rick started, but Tobin's voice cut him off. 

"Deanna?" 

You opened your eyes to see Deanna walking away slowly.


	5. If We Don't Fight, We Die

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
> cannon divergence  
> brief mention of suicide

You were walking, aimlessly, heading back home. 

Alone. 

You needed to find Carol, tell her about Merle. You needed to get to work on a plan. 

You should probably get someone you trusted as security for the pantry. People who were panicked about being surrounded might also panic about food consumption. 

You didn't do any of those things, you just... walked. 

 

You heard the scream and looked up to see the crowd gathered around one of the houses. Jessie stood on the porch, and you saw her shoulders slump as she looked into the window. 

Pressed against the glass was one of the Alexandrian ladies, one of Carol's friends. There was blood trailing where the walker pressed her arms to the glass, and you saw that she'd cut her wrists. 

Shit. 

You started forward, fumbling for your knife, but Jessie had already pulled hers. She opened the door slowly, not all the way, and you watched from the base of the stairs in case it got out of hand. 

But she was a champ, sinking her knife in through the walker's eye and pulling it back out, no hesitation. She turned around slowly and met your eyes. You gave her a nod of approval and she nodded, slightly, back. 

Then she looked out at the shocked and worried little knot of Alexandrians behind you. 

"I used to not want to see the way things are," she said, her eyes dull. 

You wondered what had happened to her when the W people attacked. 

"It's not that I couldn't. It's that I- I didn't want to," she said with a slight shrug. "But this is what life looks like now. We have to see it. We have to fight it." 

She met your eyes again. "If we don't fight, we die." 

No one spoke, but you smiled at her faintly in approval. She just walked down the stairs, grabbed her jacket off the railing, and touched your shoulder briefly as she passed. 

You waited a moment, looking at the walker Jessie had dropped, and then you started walking again. 

 

Darkness fell while you wandered the town. 

You'd been all over it, twice, and people were calming down. They were doing their jobs. 

Rick had run into you once, asked you to come to his place. Get some dinner with him and the rest of your people. Carol was cooking. 

You'd stared at him when he said that, so casually. 

Carol was cooking. 

Like she didn't know. Or maybe like she didn't care. 

You knew she knew, because you'd told her yourself.

You wondered if you'd even responded to Rick or if you had just walked off without a word. 

 

You heard the walker moans, saw Deanna stabbing it over and over and over again, in the chest, with what looked like a broken bottle. 

You shot the thing with an arrow as Rick came running out of nowhere to Deanna's side, and you heard her say she wanted to live. 

"Then lead them," Rick answered, and Deanna had shaken her head. 

"They don't need me. They need you. You and her," she'd said, nodding at the arrow in the walker's skull. 

Rick looked down, grabbed your arrow, and yanked it free. He looked around the darkness for you, but you just turned and kept walking. 

 

You were at the gate, and you saw Maggie climbing down from the platform. Aaron followed her, and you had a horrible surge of guilt flare inside you. 

Here you were, moping and wandering the place and not doing your job, and Maggie'd lost her husband and was still on her feet. Still moving, still doing what needed to be done. 

You followed them to the wall, to the panel where the Alexandrians listed their dead, and you had to stop and breathe and wrap your arms tightly around yourself so you didn't break into a thousand pieces right there on the ground. 

They'd added more names: 

Nicholas. 

Glenn.

Merle. 

Maggie was scrubbing at Glenn's name with something, trying to get it off, and Aaron stepped to her side, pulled a bandanna from his back pocket, and set to work on Merle's. 

You watched for a moment, letting yet more tears fall, and then- 

Fuck this. 

You weren't going to believe he was gone until you saw the body or the walker. 

Not Merle fucking Dixon. 

Not your one-handed asshole guardian angel, with his raucous laugh and shit eating grin; his penchant for ill-timed humor and casually sexist attitude, designed to piss you off and make you react, just so he could laugh a little harder. Not your big brother. Not Merle. 

"I'll do Merle's name," you said, stepping up to them, and Aaron shifted over so you could slip between him and Maggie, offering you his bandanna as you did. 

"I'm pregnant," Maggie said softly, and you turned to her, eyes wide. 

"Maggie..." you breathed, and she gave you a look like she wasn't quite sure what you'd say. "That's- that's- oh my God." 

You grabbed her in a hug and held on tightly as you both started crying. She clung to you, apologizing into your shoulder, and soon enough you were both laughing through the tears. You drew back and looked her firmly in the eyes. 

"Congratulations, Mrs. Rhee," you told her, grinning. "I'm so happy for you both. Does Speed Racer know?" 

"Yeah," she said, eyes bright with more tears as she smiled back. "He does." 

"Then that proves it. He'll be fighting his hardest to get back to you. They'll be here soon. I'm sure of it," you said confidently, and she nodded. 

You turned back to the wall and started scrubbing again. 

Aaron spoke up beside you. "When they get back, it's worth mentioning- Aaron, Erin, can be a boy or a girl's name. Depending on how you spell it. Just saying." 

Maggie started to laugh.


	6. Seconds Away From the Head Tilt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence

They should have been back by now. 

Hell, they should have been back yesterday. 

Now in addition to pushing the panic over Merle back, you were worried about Daryl, Sasha, and Abraham. 

They should have been back by now. 

Sure, a thousand and one things could have happened to delay them that didn't necessarily spell disaster. You didn't think they were dead. Not really. 

But still. 

You were pacing the platform over the gate as the sun rose, pacing and worrying and ok yes, panicking more than a little. 

"YN," Rick called from below, and you pulled your eyes from the mass of the undead to glare down at him. 

"What?" you snapped, and he looked away, sighed, and looked back at you. You saw his jaw clench as he put his hands on his belt and gave you that look. 

"Do I need to make you come down, or are you going to do it on your own?" he asked finally. 

You snorted and resumed pacing. "You can try all you want, Cowboy, but you aren't the boss of me." 

"Thought it wasn't a democracy around here," he shot back. 

"You might be in charge of everyone else, Rick, but when have I ever just followed your orders?" 

He let out a laugh at that. "Fine. You win." 

He climbed the ladder while you paced. When he was all the way up, he just watched you for a moment. "You get more like him every day, you know. You look like he did when I first met him." 

You glanced at him and raised an eyebrow. 

Rick grinned. "When I told Daryl his brother was left behind, handcuffed to a roof, he paced just like you are now. Only he was threatening to kill me and everyone else for leaving his brother. Had some colorful things to say about our family history, too." 

That got a chuckle out of you, because you could only imagine. The Daryl Dixon you'd met on the side of the road in Georgia had lost his brother only a few days before, and he was wild, all harsh words and rough edges. The redneck asshole. 

He'd mellowed as you'd gotten to know him, as he spent time away from his brother and with your people. Then when you'd found Merle again- or he'd found you, as it were- you and Daryl had mellowed Merle out some in return. 

"Yeah, well," you said with a shrug. "Can't stop. They should have been back by now. These dead fucks should be gone already." 

"Yeah," Rick agreed softly. "I'm worried, too. But any number of things could have happened to slow them down." 

"Or worse," you said grimly. 

"Don't give up yet," Rick countered, reaching for your shoulder as you paced back near him. He forced you to stop and look in his eyes. "They're not dead. Either of them. Any of them. They'll be here soon. But I need you on your feet and at your best, 'cause these people, the ones in here? They're gonna lose it if we can't keep them calm." 

You ground your teeth together, looking down at the walkers below your feet. "Fuck. I know. I know, Cowboy. I just- they're both out there. And I'm stuck here, behind these dead assholes." 

He was nodding. "I know. So let's find a way past them." 

 

You and Rick walked the wall. 

You didn't say much, just checked for weaknesses. People said good morning as you passed, and their anxious eyes seemed a little less anxious when they saw the two of you together. 

"See that?" Rick said softly, as one of Carol's soccer mom pack came outside, eyes darting around. As soon as she saw the two of you, she let out a long exhale and smiled, raising her hand in a wave. 

You lifted your arm in response, smiling at the woman, and then shot Rick an irritated glance. "Yes, Cowboy, you've made your point," you muttered, and he smirked at you. 

"Morgan," he called a minute later, as the two of you rounded a house and saw the Monk, practicing his aikido as a couple of the Alexandrians watched, awed. 

He looked up, pausing his routine. "Rick. YN," he said with a nod. 

"We haven't had a chance to talk. We should do that, a little later," Rick said, holding Morgan's eyes significantly. The Monk nodded, giving you a long glance as you and Rick started walking again. 

 

When you'd made the full round, you saw Maggie on the perch. You nudged Rick and nodded in her direction. 

"Gonna go rescue her too, Cowboy?" you asked him softly, and he sighed. 

"Come with me?" he asked, and you shrugged. 

"You know, you don't have to be up here so much," he told Maggie when the two of you stood on either side of her. 

"I won't be," she answered simply. "He said he'd send a signal. This is the direction it'll come from. Or it won't." 

"When we go out there, it's never easy, never simple. Always a fight. But we've come back from harder things," Rick said seriously. "From further away. Glenn and Merle. Daryl, Sasha, Abraham- they will too." 

"Maybe we don't wait for them to be back, though," you said slowly, looking down. "Rick, you said we should find a way past them. We can take our time, do it right. They can walk right in." 

Maggie smiled at you softly. You smiled back, and went back to contemplating the walkers down below, trying to figure out a plan. The walls were good, you had food and water, and-

"Oh fuck," you said suddenly, and both Maggie and Rick jumped, startled. You winced. "Sorry. Rick, we need to get someone we trust on the pantry. Nervous people do stupid shit, like try to steal." 

"That happened already last night," Rick said with a grimace. "I ran into Deanna. She handled it, got everyone settled back down. Still, I'll have Carol go over there. Hover, you know." 

You snorted. "Yeah, Serial-killer Susie's a good choice." 

Maggie choked on air. "Serial-killer Susie?" 

Did you say that out loud? Shit. 

"Yeah, I don't really care for Carol's harmless act. Falls flat. Like a serial killer trying to blend in," you muttered, and Maggie cracked up. 

 

You and Rick were heading back toward your houses when you saw Morgan talking to Denise. 

"Morgan," Rick called. "Can we talk now?" 

There was something in his tone, his body language, that had you raising your eyebrows at him. 

"Can I join, Cowboy?" you asked quietly, and your voice had the same edge to it his had. He gave you an appraising look and nodded sharply as Morgan fell into step with you. 

He and Morgan sat across from each other at Rick's table, and you wandered the room aimlessly, unable to settle. Morgan's eyes followed you. 

"What's this about?" he asked finally, as the silence grew. 

Rick was watching him steadily. "When I was coming back," he said finally, leaning forward and clearing his throat. "I tried to cut off the herd with the RV. Lead the walkers away. But five of those people with the Ws on their foreheads, they stopped me. They tried to kill me, shot up the RV." 

Uh oh. Rick was doing that thing that always came before some serious crazy. It was the calm-reasonable tone, the hand gestures, the facial ticks. 

He was seconds away from the head tilt, and you were braced for the worst. 

"Now YN here says she saw you, and Carol backs her up. That you wouldn't kill those people. Did you let any of them go?" he asked finally. 

Morgan licked his lips. "Yes, I did." 

"Son of a bitch," you snarled, pacing away from the table. 

"I didn't want to kill five people I didn't have to kill!" he snapped. 

"They burned people alive," you snarled at him. 

"Yeah," he agreed. 

What the hell? This monk thing was too much. 

"Why didn't you kill me, Rick? Back in King County? I tried to kill you. Pulled a knife on you. I stabbed you. So why didn't you kill me?" Morgan asked. 

"'Cause I knew who you were," Rick answered. 

"Back there I would have killed you as soon as look at you. And I tried. But you let me live and then I was there to help Aaron and Daryl and Merle." 

You snarled at him, pacing back to the table. "Don't talk about them." 

Rick held a hand out to you, holding you back. 

"If I hadn't been there- if they had died- maybe those wolves wouldn't have known to come back here. I don't know what's right anymore. Cause I did want to kill those men. I seen what they did, what they would've kept doing. I knew I could end it." Morgan looked angry now, his face hard as he stared at the table. "But I also know that people can change. Everyone sitting here has. All life is precious." 

You snorted. "Sure, all life is precious. But our lives, Daryl's and Merle's, Carl's, Judith's, Rick's; the lives of all of my people- they're more precious. Hell, I'd lay down my own life for theirs, don't think for a moment I won't put down anyone- anyone- who puts them at risk." 

Morgan was looking at you steadily, and there was something like pity in his eyes. "You don't like it, you know." 

"Like what?" you asked, confused. 

"Killing. You and Carol. You're a lot alike- so ready to swoop in and do what you think needs to be doing for your group. But you don't like it. And you don't have to."   
You smiled, and it wasn't a pleasant smile. "No, I don't like it. But I'm good at it. You know what I do like? Keeping the people I love safe. From the dead and the living." 

"Making it now- you really think you can do that without getting blood on your hands?" Rick spoke up. 

"I don't know," Morgan answered, and that at least was honest.


	7. Can We Keep Our Feet On the Ground?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
> cannon divergence  
> brief reference to past rape/non con

"If we could get outside the walls, get back to our cars at the quarry-" Rick started. 

"Lead them away, like we'd planned to," you agreed. 

"We could build more watch points along the wall, coordinate shooting flares and guns so we could pull them out in even directions," Michonne offered. 

The three of you were on your porch, you perched against the pillar in your usual watch spot. Rick paced this time, picking at the bandage around his hand from where he'd sliced it open somehow in his fight against the Wolves who'd shot up the RV. Michonne was sitting on the porch swing, legs crossed and sword in her lap, hands resting on it gently with her eyes closed. 

Your lips quirked at the sight, remembering her sitting in a very similar pose in the back of a truck the first time you'd met her. You'd been in pain, bleeding, and traumatized all to hell and back from your time with Governor, and she'd been sitting there, this complete mystery stranger who listened to your group yell at each other, Merle run his mouth, and you try to solve everyone's problems while ignoring your own. She'd been an island of zen so calm in the chaos, everyone practically forgot she was there. 

You admired her for her calm. 

"We'd need to get all our people on it. Carl, Tara, Rosita, Carol," you agreed. 

"What about everybody else?" Michonne asked. 

"Let's just keep this to our own for now," Rick said, and you nodded. 

"Really?" Michonne said, her eyes opening and meeting both of yours. 

You and Rick exchanged looks. "If we had time to bring people along, sure. But these guys are professionally helpless, I swear," you said with a shrug. 

"We haven't had a chance to catch our breath," Rick added. 

Michonne rose, and annoyed look on her face. "Really? We're in here together. We're catching our breath right now. YN's been pushing for classes all along. Anything else is just excuses. Now do you two want the Alexandrians to be capable, or do you want to rule them with an iron fist?" 

Rick dropped his eyes from hers. You felt yourself starting to smile. 

"Well done, Samurai. Looks like we'll take some time, bring these people up to speed as much as we can. But we can't wait too long. We've got people out there," you said seriously. "And I know we're being all optimistic here, but-" 

"Deanna," Rick cut you off, and you glanced behind you as she came closer. 

"Rick, YN, Michonne," she said, and she was smiling as she came up the stairs. "Plans. For the expansion." She held out a rolled up paper. Michonne took it from her as Rick looked away. 

"We got a few other things on our plate right now," he said dryly. 

"I know. These are for what Alexandria can be after this. Because one way or another, there's going to be an after this," she said, touching Rick's arm and smiling at him. 

Michonne just raised an eyebrow at you both as Deanna left. 

 

You got your self defense classes. 

You took the archery, with Tara helping you. Rosita started people with the machetes nearby, calling out instructions to them like she'd done this all the time. 

You wondered if she had. 

Most of the group continued to be hopeless, with Francine being the only one you would have trusted with a bow outside these very controlled conditions. You were legitimately grateful that no one had suggested any gun practice for those unfamiliar. Someone would have ended up hurt. 

Rosita had better luck, though she tried to get Eugene to go against what was very obviously his nature as a coward. Knives were easier than bows- aiming wasn't a concept there- and Rosita was a good teacher. The Alexandrians weren't going to be ready to take on herds or anything, but against one or two walkers at a time, you figured a few of them wouldn't end up dead. 

So there was that, at least. 

 

You intercepted Rick and Tobin in the road, trying to shake off the despair that wanted to set in. 

"How'd it go?" Rick asked, and you gave him a disgusted look. 

"I think I'd trust Francine not to shoot me in the ass, but the others have a long damn way to go. Sorry, Tobin," you muttered, but he just chuckled. 

"We're not all as good as you people, that's for sure," he said easily enough, and you smiled slightly. 

"What the hell?" Rick snarled, and you looked up to see Spencer trying to slide along a rope from the wall to the church. 

"The fuck?" you echoed him as the three of you started to run. 

This was going to be bad. 

"Get back here!" you called to him, knowing full damn well he wouldn't make it. 

Especially with the precarious hold his grapple had. 

"Spencer, move!" Rick shouted as the grapple sifted and Spencer lost his grip. He dangled from the rope now, his feet brushing the reaching hands of the walkers below. 

Then the thing snapped loose, and he went swinging into the wall, falling all the way to the ground. 

Son of a fucking bitch. 

"Spencer, come on!" you snapped, leaning over the wall with Rick. Tara started shooting from nearby, dropping a few of the reaching walkers with head shots from one of the watch posts further down the wall. 

Spencer was climbing the rope and Rick grabbed it, braced himself, and started to pull. You muttered something under your breath and added your hands to his. 

"We got this," Cowboy grunted, and you just gave him a grim look as you heaved. 

You were gonna kill this kid yourself, slowly, and use him as the goddamn distraction to get one of your people outside the walls. 

 

Tobin throwing his weight onto yours was what did it, and when Spencer was over, you and Rick stared at him. 

Then Rick stood up and yelled across, and you looked over to see Tara and Michonne. 

"Tara! You almost died once for these people," Rick yelled, and your eyes went hard as you realized she'd been hanging over the wall as well. "What the hell were you doing?" 

Tara just flipped Rick off, and you focused back on Spencer. 

"What the hell were you doing, asshole?" you snapped at him, and Rick turned back to him as well. 

"Lost my damn shoe. Crap," he said casually, and you had your knife at his throat and a knee on his chest. 

"YN!" Tobin said, but Rick didn't even move. 

"What was that?" you snarled. 

"I was trying to help! I wanted to get to a car, draw them away," Spencer protested. 

"You ever make a climb like that before?" you asked, inches from his face. 

"You wanna help? Don't make us come running to save you," Rick spat out. "YN, let him up. You got an idea, you come to her or me!" 

"Would you have listened to me?" Spencer asked as you let him get to his feet. 

You just huffed and hit the ladder. "Fuck you, asshole. Keep your damn feet on this side of the wall at all times." 

 

You were standing in the road with Rick when you saw them. 

Maggie came running up behind you as you stared into the sky, and you reached for Rick's hand without taking your eyes off them. 

The balloons, from green. 

They were floating through the sky, and hope was a wild bird beating its wings as it tried to fly from your chest. 

"Glenn," Maggie breathed beside you, and you leaned your head on her shoulder as you watched them catch the breeze. 

"They're alive," you said simply, and Rick squeezed your hand. 

Then the tower fell.


	8. A Bitch of a Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
> cannon divergence

It started with a creak and a groan, and you wrenched your eyes from the balloons to the burned tower. 

You watched it fall as if in slow motion, and Rick was screaming beside you and pushing people out of the way, and all you could think was: 

Son of a bitch. 

 

It took the wall down as it fell, and walkers were streaming in. 

"Everyone, get into your houses. Go!" you called, surprisingly calm, as you watched the dust clear from the rubble and the walkers come in. 

You glanced behind you and saw Carl, standing still and eyes wide. "Grimes, get your ass in gear. Come on!" 

Then Rick was at your side, firing a shot at the nearest walker, and you did the same. You and Rick were back to back as you moved, taking down as many of them as you could. 

You saw Tara and Rosita scoop up Tobin and Eugene, and then they were ahead of the rush. Carl and Ron had already gone, and Maggie was nowhere to be seen. 

"Rick!" Deanna called, and you shot her an incredulous look. 

"You need to get back," Rick snapped as you fired again and again into the walkers coming in, staggering around the solar panels toward everyone in the damn town. 

Toward Carl. Toward Judith. 

"We need to get back!" she replied, and pulled some little snub nosed peashooter from somewhere. 

Woman stabs one walker- in the chest- and thinks she's John Wayne. 

She did have a point, though. There were way too many of the undead assholes for you and Rick to two-man army your way through. 

Maybe if you'd had Daryl and Merle around as well, but even then, probably not. 

It was half the herd from the quarry, after all. There'd been quite a few of those fuckers.

"Rick, she's right," you said grimly. "Besides, we've gotta get to Judith and Carl." 

"Yeah, ok, let's go," he said finally, and you started a retreat, grabbing Deanna and keeping her near you. 

 

The walker came out of nowhere, behind Rick as he dealt with another one and you were wrestling a third- you were out of bullets and it was all knife work now for you, which was fine. You were better at it anyway. 

But there was no time to help or do more than scream a warning to him as the walker closed in on his back. You ducked under the arms reaching for you, spun the walker around with a jerk on its arm, and jammed your knife into its skull. 

You kicked the rotter away into a few of its friends' waiting arms and looked around wildly for Rick. 

"Over here!" he called, and he was supporting Deanna now, and she was limping. 

"Shit, shit, shit," you muttered as you reached them, reaching for Deanna's other arm. 

"No, keep your hands free. We're gonna need them," Rick said grimly, and he was right.

There were zombies freakin' everywhere. 

This was gonna be a bitch of a fight. 

 

"Rick!" 

Michonne's voice was almost as welcome as her sword, coming out of nowhere and taking down the walker you had seen creeping up behind Rick. 

"Troublemaker, duck!" Carl called, and you dropped instantly. The undead fucker you'd been struggling with dropped, and then Carl was by your side. Michonne was beside Rick and you flashed her a grateful grin and a thumbs up, and she grinned back. With them were Ron and to your distaste, Father Disturbing. 

"Good, you're safe," Rick grunted, and you, Michonne, and Carl formed the point of your spear as you went forward. 

Until you couldn't. 

You stared wildly, your group tightening up around Rick and Deanna, as the walkers came at you from all sides. 

Fuck. 

 

Bang, bang, bang. 

Three walkers dropped, clearing enough of a path for you to dive into it and open it up more, Michonne at your side. 

"Come on, I have Judith!" Jessie screamed, standing just off her porch and holding a gun. 

Thank the fucking Lord. 

Sorry, Father. 

 

You crushed Carl in a hug the minute the door was closed on the walkers. 

"Thanks for the save, Grimes," you told him quietly as Rick and Michonne carried Deanna up the stairs with Jessie on their heels. 

"Anytime, Troublemaker," he said back, holding on hard for a minute. 

"Ok, ok, we need to-" you shoved back from him, trying to clear your brain as you swiped a hand across your forehead to shove hair out of your face. 

"Don't- don't do that," Carl said, grabbing at your hand with a laugh. "You've got-" 

You looked down at your hand, covered in walker guts, and just sighed. "Well, fuck." 

Ron was looking between you and Carl with wild eyes, and you tried to gather your own thoughts. For all the kid was the same age as Grimes, you knew he was about a thousand years younger when it came to this shit. 

And you'd killed his dad not that long ago, really, so there was that too. 

"Ok- barricades. Just like before," you told Carl, and he nodded. 

You sprang into motion but stopped just as abruptly as Ron pulled back the curtains on the living room window to look outside. You grabbed him by the shirt and hauled him back. 

"Don't," you hissed. "Don't get their attention. Stay away from the windows, and as soon as we've got the doors covered, we're heading the fuck upstairs. Help Carl- how many doors in this place? We need them all closed, locked, and barricaded." 

"Front door, back door, garage door," Carl called, already shifting the couch toward the front. 

"Thanks, kid. Ron, help Carl. I've got the back door," you told them. 

Through the kitchen you found the back entrance. A glance out the door showed that the walkers were building up all around. 

Nowhere to run. 

Stuck here. 

You glanced around for something- anything- to reinforce the door. 

"Need a hand?" Rick asked, and you glanced up as he appeared. 

"We need to block this door," you told him. "How's Deanna?" 

"Bit," he answered, sounding tired. 

Shit. 

"Jesus," you sighed. "Well, damn. I'll go up and say goodbye in a minute. Kids are on the front door and the garage door." 

Rick gestured at the bench against the mudroom wall. "It's either this or the washer." 

You considered it. "Yeah, the washer's a pain in the ass. Bench," you decided, and the two of you wrestled it into place. 

"We've got enough food and water to last for awhile. The walkers should cluster together by then, and I can make a run for the armory," Rick grunted. 

"We can," you told him, firmly. "I ain't letting you go out there alone, Cowboy, no matter what." 

He gave you an amused look. "Fine. We can." 

 

You heard Carl yell, and glass breaking. You met Rick's eyes, knowing you probably matched his crazed expression, and then the two of you were skidding toward the sounds. 

"Garage," you snapped, and Rick grabbed at the doorknob. 

"It's locked!" he shouted. "Carl! Carl!" 

"Grimes!" you yelled, and then you snatched the hatchet from Rick's belt. "Rick, move!" 

He ducked out of the way, and you hacked the at the knob and the deadbolt, heartbeat pounding wildly in your ears as you heard the unmistakable sounds of walkers and fighting from the garage. 

Son of a bitch, son of a bitch, son of a bitch- 

"Grimes!" you yelled as you finally shoved the door open and practically fell through it. 

Carl was trying to shove a metal shelving unit against the broken glass door, and there was a walker leaning against it. The rest of the glass was already cracking, and you grabbed at Carl, hauling him back even as you registered Ron scrambling past you and into the house. 

"Come on!" Rick yelled, and you shoved Carl through as the walkers broke the glass and made their way into the garage. You scooped up a shovel and thrust it through the closest one, driving it backwards with your grip on the handle and into the next two in line with a heave. 

Then you ducked through the door, throwing your back against it with Carl and Jessie beside you. 

"Here, move!" Rick yelled, and you looked into Carl's eyes. The two of you nodded and ducked to either side as Rick and Father Gabriel stuffed the love seat against the door. 

"We need more and we need to be quiet," you hissed as you and Carl fell back in against the love seat beside Rick, holding it in place against the pounding of zombie hands. 

"On it!" Michonne hissed, and Gabriel ducked out of the room too. 

"What happened in there?" Rick asked Carl, and you were extremely interested in the answer to that as well. 

"We were looking for tools and knocked over a shelf," Carl answered. 

You met Rick's eyes over Carl's head, and you knew he knew the kid was lying the same as you did. 

"We heard yelling," you grunted. 

"Yeah, Ron saw them break through the gates. We had to move." 

"There's nightstands in my mom's room," Ron said, grabbing Carl's shoulder. 

"Sounded like fighting," Jessie said from the stairs. 

"Yeah, Mom, we were fighting them," Ron sneered as he pushed past her. 

Carl started to duck around you, and you grabbed his arm. "Grimes." 

"It's ok?" Rick asked, his voice sounding the same as yours. 

Carl looked between the two of you. "It's ok." 

You had to let him go. 

But you weren't convinced.


	9. At Least She Doesn't Hold Your Lack of Beard Against You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
> cannon divergence

They came back with nightstands, but Ron looked, if possible, even more pissed. So did Carl, but he caught your look and smiled a little as he helped you and Rick brace the door. 

The others were at the windows, and when you and Rick walked into the living room, Michonne turned to you grimly. 

"They knocked over the statue. All that noise is drawing others." 

And then Judith started to cry. 

"I'll get her," Rick said, and he jogged up the stairs. 

You headed into the kitchen and started opening cabinets, gathering cans and putting them on the counter. 

"Grimes," you hissed, sticking your head back in the living room. He looked up at you. "Grab me a bag or something, will you? Then get in here." 

You ducked back around and continued to clear the place out, adding bottled water to the pile on the counter. Carl came in with a backpack. 

"Supplies?" he asked, as you started handing him the cans. 

"Yeah. In case we have to abandon the lower level or in case we need to make a break for it," you answered. "Ok, truth now. Your dad's busy. What happened? He came at you, didn't he?" 

You reached across the counter and grabbed Carl's arm when he shook his head and wouldn't meet your eyes. "Grimes, don't fucking lie to me now. I'm not going to kill the kid just for being stupid, but you could have died out there. How did the door get locked? Because I know you're not that sloppy." 

He sighed and looked at you. "I'm fine. He locked it, yes, and he did come after me. But I've got it handled, YN. Really. Please?" 

He said the last part as you snarled and started around the counter. He put the bag down and got in your path. "YN, come on. He's just a messed up teenager, the same as me. I could have been him easily if my life had gone differently. Let me handle him, ok?" 

You stayed still as he talked, looking just beyond his shoulder into the living room, where the kid was leaning on the wall and staring at the floor. 

You knew Carl was right, that he was just a messed up kid. 

But nobody fucks with Carl. 

That was the rule, the only one you and Rick and Daryl and pretty much everyone agreed on. Nobody fucks with Carl. 

"Grimes, so help me, you could have been eaten in there. If your dad hadn't developed some weird attachment to that damn ax, we wouldn't have gotten in there in time, and you and the kid would have been walker bait. I cannot lose you because you are too nice to some punk ass kid who doesn't know who the good guys are," you growled, and Carl grinned. 

"I love you, too, YN. Are you gonna trust me?" he asked simply, and damn if that didn't get you. 

"Idiot," you muttered to Carl, and he just leaned forward and hugged you. 

"Thanks, Troublemaker," he whispered, and you hugged him back, hard. 

 

You went upstairs after Rick, taking the bag of food and water with you. He'd been gone for too long, you needed to know what was up. 

Deanna was talking to him as you got close. "I wrote something. For Spencer and Maggie." 

"I'll make sure they get it," Rick said gently, and you knew Deanna was close to turning. 

"Will you look after him, Rick? Will you look after him like you look after your own people? Because guess what- they're all your own people," Deanna said wryly. 

"We haven't had a chance to make it that," Rick said softly. 

"But that's how it is," she shot back. "I didn't run over to help you out there because I like you. And certainly not because I like her. I didn't do it because I think you're a good man, a good father or that you can grow one hell of a beard." 

You laughed at that, walking all the way into the room. Rick glanced at you and Deanna held out a hand and smiled. 

"You can't grow any beard, but I don't hold that against you. I ran over to help because you are one of us. Both of you. It's what you'd do for any of them, and what they'd do for you. We're all your people, Rick," she said. 

You smiled at her as Rick just stared. 

"Rick!" Jessie's voice called urgently from below, and you were both moving. You dropped the bag of food and water on the floor before you charged down the stairs after him. 

 

Walkers were breaking in- through the newly repaired window in Jessie's living room, through the front door despite your reinforcements. Probably through the garage door, too, but you couldn't see that.

Goddamn it. 

You'd have been fine if that idiot Ron hadn't started a fight and gotten their attention. 

"Rick, upstairs!" you snapped. "We'll have to block the stairs off somehow!" 

He had his shoulder braced on the window with some of the others, but he met your eyes and you could see him calculating options. 

"I already dropped food and water up there. Come on, it's all we've got," you said, and he nodded. 

"Alright, let's go. Jessie, Ron, Carl- up the stairs," Rick hissed, and you fell back to the base of the steps to cover them as the front door broke. Carl looked like he wanted to argue, but you leveled him with a glare. 

Jessie pulled Ron with her and pushed him up the stairs ahead of her, and Carl came too. You brushed his arm as he passed, eyes on the exits. 

"Gabriel, Michonne, go," Rick said once they were up, and Gabriel went, but Michonne stayed put with Rick at the window. 

"Come together, Cowboy, Samurai! They're clear; it's just us now! On three!" you called, and they nodded. 

"One! Two! Three!" 

They came running for you as the front door gave completely and the window crashed behind them.


	10. No Guts, No Glory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
> cannon divergence

"Rick, grab the couch!" you yelled as Rick and Michonne headed toward you and the walkers flooded in. 

They did, and you helped heave it into place blocking the stairs. 

You looked at each other, then up at where Carl and Gabriel stood at the top, Gabriel with his machete out and Carl with his gun trained steadily at the walker tide flowing in. 

"Well, it's a good thing I think ahead," you muttered, irritated. You stared back into the sea of undead, and you knew the couch wouldn't hold long. 

You looked over at Rick. "So, I have an idea," you said conversationally. 

"Am I going to object?" he asked. "Loudly and possibly violently?" 

You flashed him a grin. "Maybe. I hope not, since that couch isn't gonna last long." You jerked a thumb behind you and Rick nodded. 

"Hit me," he said. 

"No guts, no glory," you responded with a shrug, and he looked out at the walkers. 

"I'll get the one in the front, you get the next one. We're gonna need at least two," he said immediately. 

That was easier than you'd thought. 

"What the hell are they talking about?" Ron asked behind you. 

"A way out," Carl said, voice grim, and your knife flashed out into the nearest walker's eye. 

 

You and Rick drug the walker bodies into one of the bedrooms. 

"Stay here. See anyone squeezing through, you get me," Rick grunted at Carl, who just gave a nod and kept his eyes on the stairs. Ron was with him, and that earned him a glare from you, but you were a little busy trying to save everyone at the moment. 

"We're gonna need bed sheets- enough for everyone," you called, and Gabriel nodded and got moving. 

"Bed sheets for what?" Jessie asked, and she sounded slightly frantic. 

You didn't blame her; this was a lot for you even. First the attack, then the walkers outside, now the walkers inside the walls and even inside her house. Woman had held up well so far, and you admired her mettle. 

Hell, with a little training and a little more experience- in a far more controlled environment than this- she could end up being a downright deadly team member. 

It was really just Rick's crush on her that had you disliking her so much, and it wasn't her fault you thought he and Michonne were made for each other. 

"We all go to the armory," Rick answered her. 

"How?" she asked, confused, when he didn't go on. 

"Rick tends to forget not everyone reads minds like he and YN do," Michonne said dryly from the doorway. "We're gonna gut these things." 

"Spread their guts on us. It covers our scent, and as long as we stay quiet and keep our movements low and contained, we'll blend right in with them," you added, making a face as you pulled your machete to take the first one. "Rick, I think we might need another. There's a lot of us." 

"You- what?" Ron said, and you shot an irritated glance at him. 

"I've done it before," Rick said before you could say anything. "We stay calm, we don't draw attention, we can move right through them. We'll get another if we need it, let's just get started," he added to you, and you nodded. 

Gabriel came back and handed over a pile of sheets. 

"They're in the house, the're making noise. More are coming," Michonne said simply, and started cutting holes in the sheets for heads. 

You looked at Rick and grimaced. "Why is it always us?" you complained, and he grinned at you. 

"Come on, you know you love this shit," Michonne teased. 

Ron gagged as you plunged your machete into the walker's stomach and ripped it downwards while Rick did the same with his. The smell hit you and you groaned. 

"Not when it smells like that, I don't!" you shot back at Michonne, and glanced over at Rick where he was steadily digging guts out of his walker. 

"Anyone who stays here is going to die," he told Jessie and Ron firmly, and you didn't spare them another glance. 

If they wanted to live, they'd follow your lead. 

"Ok, who's first?" you asked cheerfully, as Michonne dropped a bed sheet poncho over your head. 

"Hey, at least my clothes will stay clean this time," you added before you remembered all the fighting you'd done outside. 

"How are you so casual about this, you psycho?" Ron burst out, and Jessie snapped his name even as you looked at him. 

"Several reasons, my friend," you told him, and your voice cooled as you spoke to him. You didn't appreciate someone who had almost gotten one of your people killed calling you a psycho. 

Even if he was probably right. 

"One, I trust the hell out of Rick- something you should consider. Two, I know I can handle myself out there. Three, I'm out of options if I want to live, so this is my best damn shot. Four, there are people I love out there that are probably waiting on me to come save their asses. And five, I have been through way worse shit than this and not only lived, but dominated. So you're in good hands. Now shut up and put this on, and get ready for a crash course in the real world, kid." You shoved a poncho into his hands as you said the last bit and handed one to Jessie as well. "You too, Jessie. Come on, you've held it together this long. You can do this." 

"What about Deanna?" Gabriel asked, and you and Rick looked at each other. 

"I'll go," Michonne said quietly. "Get them covered." 

 

Michonne came back as you started slathering Ron. You jerked your head at the walkers and she nodded, shrugging into her own poncho and getting to work. Jessie was trying to convince Sam to come out of his room and get covered in guts, and Rick was busy getting Carl coated. 

"Listen to me, kid," you said in a low voice to Ron as you dumped another handful of guts on his shoulder. "I know you went after Carl. I know you caused this mess. He asked me to let him handle it. That and the fact that you're a kid are the only reasons you're not getting the smackdown you deserve. But this is it. You fuck with Carl or any of the rest of my people- Rick, Judith, Michonne, anyone- so help me I will kill you myself," your voice was hard as a rock and he gave you a hate-filled look. 

"I'm not scared of you," he said quietly, and you patted his cheek. 

"Think that all you like, my friend. You're done," you said, louder, and moved to check Carl. 

 

"Rick, we need to go," you hissed, looking down at the walkers from the top of the stairs. 

"We're ready," Jessie said, her voice strong. You looked back and sure enough, she and Sam were covered in guts. Gabriel, Carl, Michonne, and Rick were ready as well, and you nodded to Rick. 

"I'll go get Judith," he said, and you could hear the edge to his voice. 

Cowboy was fuckin' terrified. He was taking both his kids- one of them a baby- out into that mess of a herd. 

Hell, you were terrified. Carl at least was pretty much your kid at this point. 

"Rick. I will not turn back from this. I will not run away out there," Father Disturbing declared dramatically, and Rick met his eyes. 

"Yeah, I know," he said, and went to get the baby. 

"Ready for this, Grimes? Samurai?" you asked.

Michonne gave a hard nod, and Carl flashed you a grin. 

Then Rick was back, Judith in his arms. "Carl?" he asked, and Carl nodded. 

You hated this part, but you knew it was the right call. Carl would keep her safe and quiet. He would. 

You stepped over and grabbed the front of Carl's poncho, lifting it slowly so Rick could tuck Judith under it, in the sling Carl had made from another sheet. You lowered it over her head, making happy faces at her as you did. When she was situated, you met Carl's eyes. 

"Be careful, Grimes," you whispered, and he smiled at you. 

"You too, Troublemaker," he whispered. 

"Let's do this, Rick," you said, giving Carl's shoulder one more squeeze. 

Fuck, this was harder than you'd thought it would be.


	11. Welcome to the Real World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence, but gruesomely  
> cannon divergence  
> major character death

Rick slid the couch back a little and moved out first. If it didn't work, there'd still be you and Michonne and Carl to get the rest of them out some other way. 

You'd argued that it should be you going out first, because he was their dad, but you'd been vetoed. 

By Rick himself, so maybe he was the boss of you after all.

Rick faced off with a walker, and then you were slipping through, same ugly bastard giving you a sniff. Carl came at your heels, and you prayed he could keep Judith quiet. 

If anyone could, it was him, but you knew you probably weren't going to come down from the heart-stopping adrenaline rush this experience was shaping up to be until you saw Carl and Judith safe in a room somewhere with no windows and no walkers. 

And hell, maybe not even then. 

Jessie, Sam, and Ron followed Carl, with Gabriel at Ron's back and Michonne bringing up the rear. You weaved your way behind Rick, through the walkers, heading toward the front door. 

So far, so good. 

Then you were out the front door and standing on the porch, and the walkers were milling around, but none of them were taking any notice of you. 

It was just like getting out of Atlanta. 

After fighting your way through one mob, losing some of your first group to the biters there, you and the other ten people who'd eventually ended up under your care had been drenched in blood and guts and worse- if there was a worse. 

You'd gotten a quick breather between one group and the next, and when the next wave had found you, they'd walked right by. You'd stopped one of your group from starting the fight, instead stepping out alone in the mass of them, and they'd simply staggered around you. 

Like you were one of them.

 

You made it farther than you'd honestly expected to get. You were all holding up well, and you should have been celebrating. 

Problem was, there were too damn many walkers, and they were too spread out. Your plan for the armory and the flare guns wasn't going to work, and besides- you'd been expecting to have been out of the thick of it by this point. 

You'd expected to have Judith out of the equation, and the civilians. Just you, Rick, and Michonne, maybe Carl if he insisted, heading the rest of the way while the others found a new spot to hunker down and wait. 

But that wasn't happening. 

You met Rick's eyes as he glanced back down the line, and you had another of your wordless communication moments. You raised an eyebrow, he jerked his head over to the side. 

He led your group over to a bush and everyone huddled up. 

"Ok, new plan," he whispered. "A few flares isn't gonna cut it. Too many walkers, too spread out. We're not going to the armory." 

"We need the vehicles at the quarry," you agreed, but a glance at the faces around you showed this wasn't going to be easy. 

"All of us drive. We need to round them up. We leave so we can come back," Rick agreed. 

Carl and Michonne were watching the walkers as you talked, and you knew you couldn't keep the conversation going long before some of the undead bastards noticed. 

"Rick, Judith? To the quarry and back?" You whispered, and he looked stricken. 

You didn't know what to do, but you sure as hell didn't want to risk Carl and her for that long. 

"I'll take her. Keep her safe in my church until you all lead the walkers away," Father Disturbing said, and you immediately tensed, refusal on your lips. 

But Rick was nodding. 

"Can you do this?" Michonne asked, and the same protective rage was in her voice that would have been in yours. 

"I'm supposed to. I can. I will," he assured Rick, and Rick looked at Carl. 

Carl nodded, and stepped to Gabriel's side. 

The first noise Judith made was while they made the transfer, and your heart clenched for her and for the stressed faces of the Grimes boys. 

Jessie tried to get Gabriel to take Sam, but the kid refused. That was going to be an issue later, you were sure of it, but it wasn't your kid so you didn't get a vote.

"I'm going to keep her safe," Gabriel said to Rick. 

"Thank you," Rick whispered. 

"Rick, we've gotta move," you said grimly, but you looked at Gabriel. "You do it, or I'll take both your arms," you told him, and he flinched back from you. 

Then he was moving off, and you were forming up again, Rick and Carl staring at him with their hearts in their eyes as they went. 

"Cowboy," you whispered urgently, as you noticed one of the walkers noticing your group. He nodded. 

"Sam," he said, and took the kid's hand. Jessie fell in behind him and Carl grabbed her hand and then Ron's. Michonne brought up the rear of the chain and reached for you, but you shook your head. 

You were staying apart from the daisy chain, needing freedom of movement.

You fell in behind them, wanting both hands loose, and she nodded in understanding. 

 

Full dark hit while you tried to shuffle your way through. 

You kept having to move with the herd, when they got too thick and moved all in the same direction; shoving against them would have alerted them to the fact that you were living. But so far, it was working. 

You kept moving with but apart from the chain, keeping your hands free for an emergency. You didn't know if it would do any good at all, but it made you feel better. 

You'd almost made it when it finally fell apart. 

 

It was Sam that broke first, like you'd known he would. He froze, and Jessie and Ron tried to get him to keep going, but he wouldn't. 

You were several feet away, having gotten caught up in a pack and needing to drift along with them, but you started winding your way back, panic rising in your chest as Sam pulled out of Rick's grip and moved away from his mom. 

When they came, it was three of them all at once, and you almost threw up right there. 

No kid should go out like that. 

No kid's mom should have to watch. 

Jessie was screaming, and Carl was pulling at her urgently, but she wasn't moving. 

And just like that, four of them hit her, and she was gone too. 

Except she was holding Carl's hand, and she wouldn't let go. 

 

You weren't going to make it. 

You heard Carl call for Rick as you closed the last little bit, but Rick had that lost, glassy expression he'd gotten when Lori died. 

Until he didn't, and that ax that was coming in way fucking handy was swinging, and he'd hacked off Jessie's arm and Carl was free and you were there, catching Carl as he staggered. 

You got him back on his feet and were looking around, same as Rick and Michonne, and you heard the click. 

Carl turned, slowly, and so did you. 

Ron held Carl's gun, trained on Rick. 

 

You'd warned him. You'd warned him, and he hadn't listened. 

Now, in the middle of a herd of walkers, you were going to have to kill this kid. 

"You," he said, and his eyes were blank and his pupils were wide, as he held him aim steady. 

You were moving and you didn't even have to think about it, coming from the side while he was so focused on Rick, and your knife was in his side and ripping up, and as his blood gushed over your hand you heard the shot and- 

You turned to Rick and he nodded at you, and thank God he hadn't been hit. 

Michonne was at your back, her eyes grim, as the walkers fell onto the body of the kid you'd just killed. 

Then you looked around for Carl. 

He was looking down, and then he looked up and- 

Shit damn fuck Christ no no no no no no-


	12. There Wasn't A Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
> cannon divergence

"Dad?" he said, and he sounded so confused. 

Then you were moving again, and you caught Carl as he fell. Rick was right there, and he swept Carl out of your arms and was gone. 

Rick was gone, and hell, you were right there with him, running behind him full tilt for the infirmary. 

Michonne was ahead of him, sword swinging and walkers falling left and right. You were the rear, and you were simply motion. 

No thought, simply motion- cut, jab, twist, swing, stab, remove. 

Run. 

Above all, run. 

 

 

Denise opened the door as Michonne fell back to the rear with you and Rick charged forward. 

You were through the doors and slamming them closed, and Rick was laying Carl down on the gurney and he looked so small and so young and- 

"This is a gunshot?" Denise's calm voice reminded you viscerally of Hershel, and immediately some of the mind-numbing panic ebbed and faded. 

"Handgun, close range," Michonne snapped out, and you were staring at his face. 

At his fucking face, where one of his eyes was missing bloody mess.

You wanted to kill the kid again, but slower this time. 

"Please save him. Please," Rick's ragged begging called you out of your own desperation, and you took two steps over and grabbed his hand, holding it tightly in your own. 

"Cowboy, she's got this. She's got this. He's going- he's- it's Carl. He's going to be fine," you said, voice pitched low and soothing, the way Daryl always did for you. Rick's hand clenched around yours, but he didn't take his eyes off Carl. 

You pulled the gut covered poncho over your head without letting go of Rick's hand, and then did the same with his, tossing them both into a corner of the room where they wouldn't be in the way while Denise's calm voice called out orders. 

She could do it. She could save Carl. 

You pulled back the curtain and glanced out the window, something one of other people in the room had said about her light drawing walkers there hitting you belatedly. Sure enough, they were coming. 

You looked at Rick, squeezed his hand for his attention. Then his eyes met yours, and you nodded toward the door. 

He looked blank for a moment, and then he nodded back to you, once, and that was all it took. 

Your machete was in one hand, knife in the other, and Rick pulled out that damn ax and flung open the door. 

"Rick, what are you doing? Rick! YN!" Michonne's voice came from behind you, and you looked over your shoulder, once, at Carl's still form and Denise's capable, steady hands. 

You met Michonne's eyes. "Take care of him. We'll be back," you said simply, and you slammed the door behind you. 

 

There wasn't a plan. There was just battle. 

Just the endless tide of the dead and everything they represented, just Rick at your side with that blood coated hatchet swinging and that expression that said he was riding the train to Crazytown and might never come back. 

Just you and Rick and the weapons in your hands and the dance with the dead as you twisted and turned, the rock wall against which the wave of the dead crashed and broke. 

And crash it did, and it kept coming, unceasing, and you were starting to think maybe this wasn't the best idea you ever had. 

But Carl was in there, and every moment you and Rick held the line here was another moment Denise had to save his life, and you would goddamn well make sure that boy lived if it killed you. 

 

It almost did. 

One of them got by you, like you'd known one eventually would, and you were trying to spin but you weren't quite fast enough. Your brain had reached some space of battle-awareness where time seemed to slow- or maybe it was just one too damn many shocks to your system in the last few days- and you saw the walker coming at you, mouth first, and you saw your machete swinging up to it, but- 

Then there was a sword slicing through its head at the last minute, and you were looking at a pissed-off Michonne, and she was glorious. 

"Hey Samurai," you said conversationally as she fell in at your shoulder. 

"Troublemaker," she said back, and you grinned. 

"Let's kick some ass, huh?" you yelled as Aaron, Heath, and Spencer fell in behind her as well. "Form up! Center around Rick on point! Let's go, people!" 

 

You made the hole, and others joined you. 

First it was Olivia and Eric, coming running from Olivia's house to fall in with your group. 

"We can beat them! We can beat them!" Rick called, and you moved forward just off his shoulder on one side, Michonne on the other. 

They came, including Gabriel, and you gave him a long nod. Judith was safe, and he'd burned away part of the distrust you'd held for him with that one, vital act. 

When Rosita, Carol, Tara, Morgan, and Eugene came running out from a side alley and threw themselves into the fray, you let out a whoop and a shriek as you shoved yet another dead asshole into a group of his friends. 

You heard Michonne laughing at you as you did, and Rick shot you a look between swings of that damn glorious ax, blood spraying off of it into the undead tide. 

You were going to win this one. 

 

You let out another wild cry when you heard the gunshots from the direction of the gates. 

"Cavalry's here, Rick!" you screamed to him, and then you were surging forward again. 

There was blood dripping like sweat from your hair. There was blood in your ears, down your shirt, everywhere. You had guts and brains and rotten spooge making your clothing cling to you like you'd been swimming and by God it felt fucking glorious. 

But they just kept coming, and you were being backed slowly toward the wall. 

If you got pinned, you were dead. 

Then lake exploded, and the walkers turned to look at the puddle of liquid fire, and Rick was screaming not to let up and you were laughing like a loon as you charged at the retreating walkers' backs, passing Rick as you went. 

Hell no you weren't going to let up. 

There was a Dixon at the heart of that blaze, and you wanted to know which one.


	13. When the Mood to Party Hits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
> cannon divergence

It was Daryl, and you screamed his name over the sounds of the remaining walkers and the fire and squelching hits of blades on flesh. 

You screamed his name, and he turned, wildly, and dropped the- 

Holy fuck was that a rocket launcher? 

Jesus, the man knew how to make an entrance. 

"YN!" he called, and he was flinging himself off the top of the truck, and you were hacking and slashing your way to him and crashing together as the battle raged around you. 

"Hey, honey, welcome home," you joked as you boosted yourself up into his arms and he held you tightly. He didn't laugh, just pressed his face into your neck as he cupped the back of your head and you held onto him, trusting the others around you to keep the two of you alive for a minute. 

Besides, it wasn't like there were that many walkers left at this point. 

He finally let you pull back after a minute, and you combed your fingers through his hair, pushing it back away from his face. 

"What the hell you been doin' while I was gone, woman? Haven't we told ya about throwin' these damn parties without us?" he growled at you, a smile turning the edges of his mouth up. 

You grinned at him full out. "Sorry, Dixon. I just can't help it. When the mood to party hits, I just have to cut loose." 

Then the smile slid from your face as Rick walked up behind you, and you dropped from Daryl's arms. He kept one arm lose around your waist even as he turned to see what you were looking at. 

"Have you heard?" you asked anxiously, and Daryl looked from you to Rick. 

"No, I'm heading back. Michonne too, and anyone who's hurt. You coming?" Rick said, and you nodded, face set. 

"Right behind you, Cowboy," you said, and tugged Daryl into motion. 

 

When you got there, Carl hadn't woken up yet, but Denise tried to reassure you that that was normal. That it wasn't a sign of anything other than Carl's brain shutting his body down so he could heal. 

You held on to that grimly, with both hands, and put up the brave face you knew Rick and Michonne needed. 

You kissed Carl's forehead as you got ready to leave Rick alone with him, and whispered in his ear. "I told you to be careful. You promised, Grimes. Wake up now. Love you, and stuff."

Then you gave Rick a long, sticky hug, the walker blood coating you clinging to the walker blood coating him. "I'm giving you one hour, Cowboy. Then you're taking a shower and getting something to eat, so help me," you told him quietly, and he just leaned into you, eyes on Carl. 

At the door, you grabbed Daryl's hand as your eyes filled. He pulled you into him, shutting the door behind you hastily as the tears started to come. 

"It's a'ight, woman. He's a tough kid, he's gonna be fine," Daryl told you, running his hand over your hair as you leaned into him. "You're disgustin', though, I ain't gonna lie," he said after a moment, and you chuckled slightly through the tears. 

"Yeah," you said. "And this is after I took off the walker gut poncho. Jesus, I need a shower." 

"Yeah, and Daryl here needs some stitches in that shoulder. Let's take care of that, shall we?" Denise's voice was controlled and cheerful, and you pulled away from Daryl to glare at him. 

"He needs what? You didn't say anything, Dixon, what the hell!" you snapped at him. 

Denise snorted as Daryl looked away. 

"Come on, I'll have you done in no time. Then you can hit the shower upstairs first. No one's going to begrudge you or Rick that today," she said with a smile to you. 

 

While she stitched Daryl's shoulder, your people drifted in, one by one. Some stayed inside for medical care, some went back outside to wait for news of Carl. 

But none of them left. 

You were standing in front of Daryl, smiling as he winced and muttered things while Denise finished up, when the door opened and Maggie and Glenn came in together. 

"Speed Racer!" you exclaimed, dropping Daryl's hand and running over to him. You flung your arms around Glenn, holding on tightly, and he held on back. "God, I'm so glad to see you. You crazy assholes had us worried," you said with a laugh as you pulled back and looked at him. 

He wouldn't meet your eyes, and you felt the smile fading slowly from your face. Maggie squeezed his hand and stepped away, touching your shoulder for a moment as she went. 

"Glenn?" you asked, and the world was slowing down again, narrowing to just this point, right now, and Glenn's face. "Glenn, where's- where's-" 

You felt Daryl's hand touch your back as Glenn finally looked up at you. 

"Glenn?" you whispered, and he shook his head. "No. No. No. No!" 

You screamed the last one at him, and Daryl wrapped an arm around you as you started forward toward Glenn, lashing out as denied what he was saying without words. Glenn grabbed your arm, forcing you to look him in the eyes. 

"Daryl. YN. I don't know where he is. I don't know if he's dead. I don't. You have to listen to me, ok?" Glenn was saying, but the blood was pounding in your ears and Daryl's arm around you wasn't holding you up anymore as what Glenn was saying sank in. 

No. No, goddamn it, no. You'd thought he was dead, and then you saw the balloons. You saw the balloons, so he was alive. They were both alive. He and Glenn had made it, and gotten you the signal. 

You saw the balloons. 

And Glenn was alive. 

So where was Merle? 

"Where's my brother?" Daryl's voice broke the endless loop of your thoughts, and you fumbled for his hand. He grabbed on to you and squeezed so hard you were afraid he'd crack bones, but you didn't care, you were gripping back just as hard. 

"Can we- we should go outside-" Glenn said, looking around at the now deathly quiet infirmary. 

"Goddamn it, Speed Racer, where is he?" you snapped, and Glenn looked in your eyes and sighed. 

 

After Glenn, Merle, and Nicholas had split off to set the fire, they'd been cut off from the other group by the dead. They'd made it to the building Nicholas had suggested would light up easily only to discover that Nicholas had indeed been right, and the building was ashes already.

Nicholas had panicked when part of the herd had appeared, and they'd run down a couple side streets before Glenn and Merle realized he had no idea where he was going. Glenn just wanted to get home- they'd been hearing the shots and both of them knew something was majorly wrong. He argued that they'd just have to deal with the walkers later. They'd done their best. 

Merle had disagreed. He'd told Glenn that he had a job to do, and he was damn well going to do it. Merle was the one who said they should split up. Glenn had argued, but then the walkers had been catching up to them again. There'd been no time. 

Glenn had handed over the flare gun and Merle had grinned at him. 

"Sorry about sickin' that walker on ya while ya were tied to a chair. Little sister always said that was the one she was gonna punch me over. Never got around to it. Tell 'er she can hit me up when I get back, if my baby brother don't do it for 'er," he'd told Glenn. And then he'd been gone, taking off in the opposite direction from Glenn and Nicholas and screaming like a lunatic.

He'd drawn just enough of the walkers away that Glenn and Nicholas had been able to get down an alley, but they'd ended up trapped on top of a dumpster. Nicholas had shot himself, and when he'd fallen, he'd taken Glenn down with him. 

Glenn had managed to crawl under the dumpster and somehow survived by staying just out of reach, and in the morning, when the walkers had gotten bored, Enid had found him. 

"I tried to find Merle. Enid and I, we looked," Glenn said urgently. "I swear, I didn't want him to leave. I didn't want him to leave." 

You were staring at him, gripping Daryl's hand while life went on around you and you were being told for the second time that Merle was gone. 

"You didn't find nothin'?" Daryl asked, and his voice was so raw it cut you to the core. 

It was worse than when Beth died. 

You were goddamn terrified. You'd almost lost Daryl when Beth died. You'd spent nearly four weeks him drunk and mean and gone, not your Daryl at all, and you'd been broken and miserable just as he was. You'd only gotten through it because of Merle.

And that'd been Beth. 

If his brother was gone- again, and for real this time- you could bet that Daryl was going to follow that same path. He'd go right back into that black hole, and probably even worse. 

And if they were both gone, you'd throw yourselves to the walkers right now and save everyone the trouble, because you couldn't fucking do it on your own. You couldn't be the last Dixon standing. 

Glenn sighed, and reached into his pocket. 

He held something out in his hands, and you felt your vision go dark around the edges. 

It was an orange flare gun, broken in half and bloody. 

"Jesus, Daryl, catch her!" you heard Maggie's voice yell as if from somewhere far away, echoing and echoing, and then everything was dark.


	14. Drop the Corpse and Run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence

Carl was going to be fine. 

Carl was going to be fine. 

It was the mantra that you'd clung to over the next days, as you'd tried to adjust to the idea of life with Merle. 

Life without your too-loud, too-much guardian at your back. 

Life without hearing that raucous laugh, or him calling you 'little sister' in that easy drawl. 

Life without him by your side as you slipped through the trees like a shadow, your perfect mind meld with him and Daryl in place as you tracked deer or rabbits or whatever struck your mood that day. 

But Carl was going to be fine. 

 

That got you through the first three days, clinging to your sanity with shredded fingertips and that simple mantra. 

You threw yourself into the cleanup after screaming Daryl's head off when he tried to stop you, just hours after Glenn showed you the broken flare gun, until he'd finally yelled back. 

"Fine, be an idiot then!" he'd snapped back at you, throwing his hands up and stalking away. 

You'd turned, the words leaving your mouth before your brain caught up- "Goddamn it, Merle, why does he always act like I'm going to fall apart after every fight?" 

And Merle hadn't been there. He hadn't been there, right at your shoulder like you'd expected him to be; like he always was; like he should have been. 

Instead there were only the shocked faces of some of the Alexandrians, eyes wide at either your still blood-crusted state or the sound and sight of their first Dixon discussion or at you turning and talking to the air. 

You didn't know and it didn't matter, as you'd let out gasp and wrapped your arms around yourself, the pain hitting you so hard it was physical and you bent double as it crashed through you. 

Daryl'd been back in an instant, wrapping you up and holding you close and whispering nonsense in your ear in a steady stream like he did for the panic attacks you'd had routinely for awhile. 

But this wasn't panic; this was something else- an empty roaring void inside you that you didn't know how to fill and didn't know how to cope with having there. 

Even Daryl's arms couldn't do anything to stop it. 

 

He'd told you all about his adventures, about the gang of motorcycle assholes and the launcher and the man and woman who'd stolen his crossbow and his bike. You were angry on his behalf, wanted to go out and search for them. 

But you didn't. He talked you out of it, told you they were long gone, and you accepted that, all too easily. 

The Dixons weren't the Dixons anyway. You were short a clan member, so who the hell cared about a crossbow and a motorcycle? 

You started leaving your own bow propped up just inside the door of your own house. 

 

"Would you step lighter, darlin'? You're scarin' off every damn animal in the forest," Merle hissed when you crunched on a pile of leaves accidentally. 

You scowled at him over your already drawn bow. "Bet I get more than you today," you snapped back. 

"Stakes, sugar?" he asked, challenge lighting up his eyes. 

"Laundry duty for the three of us?" you offered, and he grinned. 

"Deal, little sister!" 

 

Daryl was fine, and it pissed you off. 

After Beth, he'd turned into total asshole, driving anyone and everyone who'd tried to reach him away; hurting people- hurting you- in the worst way possible. 

And now, maybe two months later, his brother dies and he's fine? 

You didn't get it. 

But he was. He was in the thick of things with you and Rick, a supporting hand at your elbow when the grief drowned you slowly in waves and a voice of calm reason while you made your plans to rebuild the walls, to expand. 

You didn't get it, and it pissed you off. 

 

"What do you mean 'he's taking a page out of your daddy's book'? What the hell does that even mean?" you snapped, at Merle as you stared into the trees where Daryl'd disappeared for the second day in a row. 

"It means you need to stay away, little sister, and let him be an asshole to the damn walkers for awhile instead of you," Merle sounded just as angry as you felt, and you whipped around to glare at him. 

"What do you think he's gonna do? You think I break easy, Merle Dixon? You have no idea what I can handle!" 

"Yes, I do," Merle said softly, the anger fading from his eyes. "But just 'cause you can handle somethin' don't mean ya have to, darlin'. Trust ol' Merle on this. He'll cool off in a few days." 

"I don't understand what I did wrong, Merle," you whispered, eyes filling. 

"Not a damn thing, girlie. Not a damn thing." 

 

The day Carl left the infirmary and went home, you were sitting on your perch on the porch railing, watching the street listlessly. 

There were six hundred things you could think of off hand that needed doing, but you- you couldn't do any of them. You couldn't drive yourself off the rail where you'd been half the night and get your feet moving and your mind working. 

But when they came into view- 

You flung yourself off the railing, not bothering with the stairs. You ran up the road to where you'd seen them appear in the distance and when you reached them, your face felt strange, and you realized you were smiling. 

For the first time in a week, since Carl'd been shot and Glenn broke the news about Merle, you were smiling. 

"Hey, Grimes," you said, and he grinned back at you. 

"Hey, Troublemaker," he said back, and you grabbed him in a hug and held on. 

 

You'd been by his side almost immediately after you'd woken up. You hadn't been out long, just a few minutes, and Daryl'd growled something at you that you didn't hear as Denise came and checked your eyes and proclaimed you fine. 

Glenn and Maggie and Daryl had been hovering, and everyone else had been anxiously shooting you looks and you'd wanted to stab everyone there in the face, if only you'd had a weapon that wasn't coated in walker blood. 

It had only taken about ten minutes of that before you'd shoved them all away, even Daryl, and made your way back to Carl's room and Rick's side. 

He'd looked up at you, and the look on his face had gripped your heart and squeezed like a fist, and you'd pulled up another chair and sat beside him without a word. 

You'd leaned your head on Rick's shoulder after a minute, and he'd reached over for your hand and you gripped Carl's foot with your other hand, needing the connection with the kid. 

After a few minutes, Rick had started talking. 

"Remember the farm? When he was shot?" Rick sounded like he hadn't spoken in ten years, and you knew how that was; how a voice could go hard and rusty as the mind spun out of control. 

You nodded against Rick's shoulder. 

"Sitting there beside him, with Lori- he was so pale. And I'd carried him then, running all the way to the farm screaming at Otis about how far and which way, my boy's blood soaking into that damn uniform I was compelled to put on. I thought- I thought I knew what fear was when I woke up alone in that hospital. Then Carl was shot, and-" He broke off, dropping his head and you saw the tears splash onto the back of his hand as it lay in Carl's limp one. 

"There's nothin'- nothin' that can prepare you for seeing your kid in a bed like this. You can't do anything- can't do anything except be there for 'em, even if they don't know." 

You sighed a little and gripped Rick's hand harder. He squeezed back, shaking his head. 

"I tried to go with Shane and Otis, to get the medicine. I wanted to, or to find Lori. I tried to run. Shane made- Shane made me stay. Told me he would take care of everything else, I just had to be there for my boy. He was right- that's where- that's where I had to be. This is where I have to be," he said more firmly. "Lori's not here to be with him, but I am. I can." 

"You are," you whispered to him, pushing up from his shoulder to look at him. "You are. You got him here, you kept him and Denise safe so she could save him, and now you're here. You're doing exactly the right thing, Rick. We'll handle everything else. Just know you're not alone. Michonne, Daryl, me- we love this kid like he's ours. Hell, he is mine," you said with a shrug, and Rick finally looked at you. 

He broke your heart all over again with those red-rimmed, brimming eyes. 

"We'll look out for you, and for him, and for this place. You just focus on him, Rick," you told him, and he nodded, swallowing hard, as he turned back to Carl. 

 

When the kid grabbed Rick's hand, you'd been hauling walker corpses to trucks and directing Alexandrians as they came up to you with this problem or that while fanning out across the town to asses the damage. 

Daryl was nearby, hauling corpses same as you, and everyone who was able to be on their feet were involved in the cleanup somehow. 

Tara was the one who told you. She came running, her face set, and you'd felt your heart stop, fearing the worst, but when she skidded to a halt, she'd beamed at you. 

You'd dropped the corpse and run. 

 

When he'd woken up for real, you'd been upstairs in the shower. You'd bullied Rick into going first- a hell of a lot easier after Carl'd grabbed onto his hand- and sat with Carl while he did, tears running down your face as you sat in the darkened room, holding his hand, and letting yourself feel just a taste of the storm raging inside you. 

When Rick had come back in, hair damp and looking a thousand years younger just by being clean, he'd put a hand on your shoulder and tried to draw you into a hug. 

You'd given a watery laugh and told him not to get all messed up again. He'd then used the same damn tricks you'd used to get him to clean up on you- "Carl shouldn't wake up and see you covered in blood and guts and things from head to toe, c'mmon Cowboy, really. It won't take long, and I'll be with him the whole time. If he wakes up, I'll drag you out of the bathroom myself, soap be damned." 

Rick had turned it on you, and added that you would scare the shit out of Judith if she saw you looking like that. When you'd gotten a look at yourself in Denise's mirror, you'd had to wince because damn, he was right- there was blood everywhere. 

You'd been working your wet hair into a braid as you came back down the hall when Carl's door was flung open and Rick appeared in the doorway, eyes wild. When he saw you, he grinned, and just shouted it out to the whole house. 

"He's awake!" 

 

Now he was up and walking and going home, and it was the only bright spot you could find in the thunderstorm. 

You clung to it with all your might. 

Rick and Michonne were beaming, and Carl looked thrilled to be out, responding to the cheers and waves of all the Alexandrians who saw the four of you as you made your way slowly down the street. 

Daryl came out on the porch as you got close, you and Rick hovering around Carl and fussing while he laughed and told you he was fine; he could still see; and he had both his legs, would you leave him be? Michonne was carrying Judith just a few steps away, and she was laughing at you as well, adding her reassurances to Carl's while you and Rick scowled at them and each other. 

Daryl opened the door and stepped out, and he was smiling at the scene and at you, and he came slowly down the steps as Carl stopped and looked at him. Then Daryl held out a hand. 

Carl looked at Daryl's outstretched hand and smirked. "Naw," he said, and hugged Daryl hard instead. 

Daryl looked startled for a minute, then hugged him back, just as hard. "Good to see ya up, lazy kid," he muttered, and Carl laughed. 

 

You weren't laughing anymore, as you stood on the wall keeping watch while the crews rebuilt the section of fence that was down. 

You had the long-range rifle in your hands, binoculars around your neck, and the sun shining on your shoulder. There'd been no walkers in sight for a few hours, and the only ones you'd seen in the last few days had been easily handled. The expansion Deanna had planned for was soon to be underway, and you knew- 

You knew it should be getting easier by now. 

It should be getting better by now. 

But it wasn't.


	15. Ain't Nobody Who Can Kill Merle But Merle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> mentions of past pregnancy and miscarriage/pregnancy loss  
> mentions of past self harm

Carol was never around anymore. You hadn't seen her since she'd come to visit Carl for a minute, before he woke up. You'd looked at her, and she had nodded saying she knew. Daryl'd told her. 

That was it. 

She knew. Daryl'd told her. 

 

"Little sister, if you don't stop giving me those sideways looks and just say whatever's on your mind, you're gonna burst," Merle drawled, sitting by the fire sharpening his knife. 

"You got a thing for Carol?" you asked, grinning, and he flushed deep red. 

"Go to sleep, girlie," he snapped, and you closed your eyes with a faint smile, knowing you were right. 

 

Daryl went out to hunt, and you went once too, about a week after Carl came home. You scooped your bow up from its place beside the door and followed him mutely out of the gate. 

It was a good trip- rabbits in the snares, a doe beside a stream. But you'd handed Daryl your bow the minute you were out there, just walking with him instead of really doing any hunting yourself. 

He'd given you a long look, because you never let him use your bow, always telling him to get his own. If he didn't have his, you took down the game. 

End of story.

 

It was foggy and cold, and you were pissed at being awake, pissed at already having blood on your hands, and pissed at the lack of any signs of life while you moved through the woods outside the prison. 

"Patience, little sister," Merle drawled lazily beside you as you muttered something under your breath. "It's early yet." 

"I know," you snapped. "Why do you think I'm bitching about the sun barely being up?" 

"You're bitchin' about a lot a things, girlie. Your bitchin' is probably what's drivin' the game away." 

"Fuck you, Merle," you snapped, kicking at a pile of leaves petulantly. You were being a child and you knew it, but you were so damn tired and crabby and just- ugh. 

"Now, I think you got me confused with the other Dixon brother, darlin', and I think he might just have somethin' to say if we got up to such funny business in the woods." Merle had that smug laughter in his tone that told you he was baiting you on purpose, trying to draw you out of whatever funk you were in. 

You weren't willing to cooperate yet, and you turned your scowl from the woods around you to him. "Shut up, asshole." 

"Alright, sugar, I think you've done brooded enough. You've been a real joy and delight to be around this week, little sister, and I'm thinkin' there's somethin' on your mind you ain't tellin' ol' Merle," he'd said, stepping up to you and swinging his gun up onto his back. He'd leaned on the tree beside you and raised one eyebrow, waiting for you to come out with it. 

You'd resisted a little longer, but he'd just looked at you until you sighed and scrubbed a hand over your eyes. 

"I think I'm pregnant," you said finally, fingers rubbing the grip of your bow anxiously, and you watched his face change. 

A softness you didn't think Merle possessed came over him, and his smile was small but tender. 

"Well hell, little sister. That's some mighty good news, darlin'," he said gently, and you heard the edge to his tone and were shocked to see tears in his eyes before he pulled you into a rough hug. 

 

The wall was repaired, the expansion was started, and you were back in your normal places, your normal routine. 

Security had been amped up since the Wolves' attack, and now there were fewer shifts but more people on them, and you couldn't just sit on your porch rail and brood like you wanted. 

 

"This here," Merle said, pointing upward with his metal arm at a spot almost directly across from the gates. "This is a damn blind spot we cain't be havin'. Need us another perch here, to keep an eye out that way." 

Rick nodded, face serious. "All right. Add it to the list." 

"Already done," you'd said cheerfully, marking the spot on the map on your clipboard and making a note on your list. 

The three of you moved on down the wall. 

 

"YN?" Francine's voice was soft and anxious, like she didn't want to intrude. 

You realized you'd been sitting there on the hood of your car near the gate, just staring sightless at the notebook in your hand. 

You wondered how many times she'd called your name. 

"Yes, sorry," you said, smiling up at her. The smile felt forced, but at least it wasn't as bad as the first time you'd tried it. "What can I do for you?" 

"Well, I know you're making the list for the next run. Glenn said to have you add anything that I need..." She trailed off, looking at you with concern. 

Like everyone had been doing here lately. 

 

"Look, darlin', it's not that he thinks you cain't handle yourself out there. He's just worried about you, that's all," Merle said patiently, continuing to clean the four handguns broken down in front of him. 

You were pacing in his tower, gesturing and stomping as you vented about what would end up being the first of many fights with Daryl over what you could and could not do while potentially pregnant. 

"But he's being impossible! He wants me to stay here, locked up in a damn cage with my feather pillow and- and- I don't know, and sit on my ass and eat bonbons all day!" You were dipping over the edge from complaining to whining, and you heard it, but you didn't care. 

It had been one hell of a Dixon discussion, one that had left several people on the fence crews not meeting your eye as you'd come storming over to Merle's. 

Merle looked up, interested. "We got bonbons around here? Why didn't ya let ol' Merle know? I'll sit on my ass for you, little sister, if you'll bring me the feather pillow and the bonbons." 

Your lips twitched unbidden at the mental image, and you flopped back down beside him with a sigh, only to realize he'd cleaned your gun while you grumbled. 

"You have to wear the pretty pink dress and the tiara, too," you told him with a smirk, and he grinned back at you as you started to reassemble your gun.

 

Supplies were running a little low. You and Rick and Daryl marked a path on a map, and decided to go the day after next. Daryl and Rick had been talking bout you behind your back and you knew it; knew they were worried. 

You were following the motions, doing your job and talking to people and even sometimes smiling and laughing, but you weren't ok. 

They knew it, you knew it, everyone knew it. 

What you didn't understand was how they were. 

 

"What the hell is wrong with you, Dixon?" you screamed at Daryl, the two of you alone in your empty house. 

The one that should have held Carol and Merle as well, filling the corners of the empty space with noise and presence and laughter. 

"Ain't nothin' wrong with me, woman. I'm fine," he'd snapped back, finally getting annoyed with you. 

"That's exactly what I mean! Why aren't you- you were- son of a bitch!" you broke off, sliding both hands into your hair and pulling hard while you let out a short, wordless scream. 

"Stop that," Daryl snapped, over at your side in two strides and forcing your hands down. 

"Oh, don't even, Dixon," you muttered, suddenly exhausted. "I saw the cigarette burns after Beth." 

"Yeah, I know," he said quietly. "It weren't right." 

You just looked at him. "Why aren't you- it's like you don't care. After Beth you were- and now-" You broke off, gesturing helplessly as you tried to convey what you meant. 

He looked away from you. 

"I don't believe he's gone," was all he'd said, and you'd scoffed and stalked away, slamming the front door behind you.

 

"If ya don't get some sleep, woman, I'm gonna leave you here tomorrow," Daryl threatened, his voice all rough and grouchy the way he got when he was woken up. 

You didn't look at him, staying in place on the railing. You sniffed and wiped at the tears still running down your cheeks. 

"I got a few hours," you said quietly, huddling into Daryl's flannel that you'd wrapped up in before coming out. 

You weren't pretending you were keeping watch or anything. Hell, you didn't bring your gun, and your bow was inside where it leaned against the wall most days. You just- hadn't been able to stay in there. In the empty house, in the quiet, feeling so alone. 

Even with Daryl's arm thrown around you, his face pressed against the back of your neck, and the steady sound of him breathing, you felt alone. 

"Woman..." He sighed, and the weariness and pain in his voice had you turning to look at him finally. 

His feet were bare and chest were bare, and he shoved a hand through sleep-tousled hair that was getting downright shaggy now. He had that haven't-shaved-in-three-weeks beard going that you were really starting to love, and as he looked at you, frustrated, you noticed how tired he looked. 

You noticed the bags under his eyes for the first time, and the half-healed scrapes that you'd bitched at him for not taking care of when Denise had told you he needed stitches stood out from the tanned skin of his arm. 

Guilt surged through you when you realized you didn't even know when he'd gotten the stitches out. 

"Shit," you breathed, dropping your head down onto your knees. "Shit, Dixon, I'm sorry. I'm sorry." 

"What the hell for?" he asked, and you could hear the scowl in his voice. 

"I- I'm just- I can't-" You were crying again, and then you felt him pull you against him. "Jesus, Daryl, I'm so sorry. I've been- I just miss him. I miss that bastard so much," you whispered. 

Daryl let out a long sigh and ran his hand over your hair as you lifted your face from your knees and leaned into his chest instead. "I know, woman. I know. I miss him too." 

"Thought you didn't believe he was dead," you said flatly, hearing the bitterness in your voice. 

"I don't. Ain't nobody who can kill Merle but Merle, and he's got too much to live for around here. Don't mean I don't miss his ugly mug," he muttered, and you laughed a little. 

Ain't nobody who can kill Merle but Merle. 

You liked the sound of that. You just wished you believed it. 

"I've been a bitch the past few weeks, haven't I?" you asked Daryl softly, and he grunted at you as he held you a little tighter. 

"Naw. I mean, ya ain't been the easiest person to be around neither. But I get it. Hell, I's a lot worse than you, not too long ago." 

You sighed. "Dixon?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Thanks for taking care of me." 

"Anytime, woman. Ya comin' back to bed?" He was rubbing your back, and you felt your eyes getting heavy. 

For the first time in weeks, you actually thought maybe you could rest. 

"Yeah," you said softly, and he scooped you into his arms and carried you inside.


	16. Don't Make Me Turn This Car Around

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence

"Why am I going with you, again?" You grumbled from under the blankets as Daryl moved around getting ready and threatening to dump water on your head if you didn't get up. 

"'Cause ya been mopin' around here for weeks, and you need to get out and do somethin' that makes you feel alive," he said firmly, and tossed your gun belt on top of you. 

"Hey!" You glared at him as you finally sat up, rubbing your shoulder. "That wasn't really necessary, was it?" 

He just snorted, shooting you an amused glance. "Get up, woman. We're already late." 

"Why do you seem to think running around out there with you two idiots is going to make me feel alive?" You got up reluctantly, and grabbed for Daryl's flannel, beating him to it by a breath. "You're not ripping the sleeves out of this one, Dixon. I'm claiming it," you declared with a smirk. 

He muttered something under his breath, but he was smiling at you fondly as you pulled his shirt on and grabbed for your gun  
belt. 

"What?" you asked, and he just shook his head. 

"You're already better, woman, that's what. You've smiled and talked more this mornin' than ya have in weeks. That's why I think it'll make you feel alive." 

He grabbed you by the hips and hauled you onto your toes to kiss you hard. When he set you back down firmly, he brushed your hair back out of your eyes and smiled. 

"Now come on, braid your damn hair and get ya bow. We got somewhere to be and some shit to get." 

You left the bow where it was.

 

"YN!" Carl's voice was cheerful as you and Daryl left the house together, and you looked over at him with a smile. 

"Hey, Grimes," you answered, and Daryl ran a hand down your arm to let you know he was going on without you. 

You waited as Carl jogged up to you, and he gave you a long look. 

"What?" you asked, laughing a little under the intensity of his stare.

"Nothing," he said, looking away, but he had a small smile as he looked back at you. "You just- you're smiling. Haven't seen you smile very much lately." 

You felt the smile fade and you sighed, tossing your arm around his shoulders and starting after Daryl. "Ah, kid. How bad have I been, really?" 

"No, no- you've been- I mean, you're fine, just- you've been sad and-" 

You had to stop walking because you were laughing so hard as Carl practically tripped over his own tongue. "Yeah, that's what Dixon said. More or less. So I've been a bitch." 

"Well, I wouldn't say that, exactly..." Carl looked up at you slyly, and you flicked his hat down. 

"Ha! It's cool, kid. And I can't promise I'm done with it. I just miss the hell out of him, you know? I thought he was dead, and then we saw the balloons, and I thought he was alive. And now he's dead again, or for real, but-" You broke off with a sigh. 

Carl was nodding as you started walking again. "Yeah, I know. I mean, I don't know. I wasn't close with him like you and Daryl, but I liked him. He looked out for you two, and you're pretty important to me and all. And he never minded me hanging around. I hope he's ok." 

You shook your head. "He liked you a lot, Grimes. It's a Dixon thing. We get along well with the Grimes clan. I don't know, though. It's been weeks. If he was alive, he'd have found us or sent us a message by now. I think he's gone. I hate it, but I think he's gone." 

"I'm sorry," Carl offered seriously, and you jerked one shoulder in a shrug. 

"Thanks. Alright, where are you headed? And how late are we?" you asked him as you watched Olivia talking to Daryl up ahead. Daryl met your eyes over Olivia's shoulder and smiled at you, and you smiled back. 

 

You were given the backseat simply because you'd gotten to the car last. 

So you bitched. 

Rick was grinning in the driver's seat as he rolled up to the gate and Eugene pulled it open. Daryl was scowling. 

"If I knew you'd be this much of a damn pain, I'da left ya asleep and come without you," he muttered. 

"Yeah, yeah. What about all that 'do something that makes you feel alive' shit?" you shot back, glaring at the back of his head. 

"That was before ya hadn't shut up about the backseat in ages." 

"We haven't even gotten out of the gates yet!" you exclaimed, and Rick gave you an amused look in the mirror. 

"Come on now, kids, don't make me stop the car," he said. 

You and Daryl turned your scowls on him at the same time, and Rick looked at the two of you and laughed. You glanced at Daryl and found him looking at you from the corner of his eye, and after a second, the two of you cracked up as well. 

Eugene walked up to the window and you tried to get control of yourselves. He handed Daryl a piece of paper. 

"I mapped out some of the agricultural supply places in the area. Even if they'd been cleaned out, my bet is that the sorghum would be untouched. Now that there is a criminally underrated grain that could change the game with our food situation from scary to hunk-dunky." He stared at Rick and Daryl as they stared back and you tried not to giggle at the looks on everyone's faces. 

Yeah, none of you had the first freakin' clue what sorghum was. 

"I'm talking standability, drought tolerance, grain-to-stover ratio that is the envy of all corns," Eugene continued, face so serious that you had to bite the inside of your cheek as Rick looked away desperately. 

"Think about it," Eugene pronounced, and finally Daryl nodded. 

"Thanks," he said, and you heard the barely suppressed what-the-fuck laughter in his voice. 

Rick pulled through the gate and around the spiked cars you were using as barricades, and once the three of you were far enough that Eugene wouldn't overhear, you started giggling. 

Both hands pressed to your face, you fell back against the seat, Eugene's serious face and Daryl and Rick's stoically confused ones fighting for what you thought was the funniest. After a minute, first Rick and then Daryl joined in and all three of you were howling again. 

"Jesus, what the fuck is sorghum?" you finally wheezed out, and Rick just shrugged helplessly. 

"I guess we'll find out." 

 

"Today's the day," Rick said a little further down the road. 

"Uh-huh," Daryl grunted, and you just scooted up to lean between their seats. 

"Put your seat belt on," Rick said absently to you. You just raised an eyebrow, and he rolled his eyes. 

"We're gonna find food, maybe some people. The law of averages has gotta catch up," Rick said. 

"I don't know. Ain't seen nobody for weeks. Maybe we ain't gonna find nobody," Daryl muttered in response. "Maybe that's a good thing." 

Silence descended, and you fidgeted for a minute, then leaned forward. 

"Don't," Daryl said, turning wide eyes to you. "Don't. Please, don't." He groaned and rolled his eyes as you slid the cd into the player. 

Rick grinned and started snapping his fingers in time to the bizarre twanging from the speakers. "Draws them away from home," he said with a grin in your direction. 

Daryl leveled you with a glare as Rick turned the music- if you could call it that- up. You leaned over the seat and pressed your lips to his, hard. His hand came up to the back of your head, holding you in place as he kissed you back, and Rick groaned. 

"Oh God, what the hell, Dixons. Not in the damn car!" 

You and Daryl broke apart, smirking at each other, and you shifted to rest your chin on the shoulder of Daryl's seat. He brought his arm up to thread his fingers through your hair as you grinned at Rick. 

"Could be you if you'd just get your head out of your ass when it comes to Michonne!" you called over the music, and Daryl snorted as Rick scowled at the road and reached for the radio. 

Looks like Dixon had been right after all. 

This was doing you a world of good already. 

 

You were playing with Daryl's hair, staring absently out the window while Rick drove and Daryl tried to get as far away from the music as possible when you saw it. 

"Holy shit!" you burst out, and grabbed Rick's shoulder. 

He hit the brakes with a yelp and a glare, and you were scrambling forward to turn the music from 'blaring' to 'manageable'. 

"Sorghum!" you said, waving behind you. 

"What?" Rick asked, confused. 

"That barn back there, it had sorghum written on the top." 

He glanced at Daryl over your shoulder and you huffed out an annoyed breath. "Eugene's magic grain?" 

Rick's eyes got wide and he threw the car in reverse. 

 

There was a truck in the barn. 

You and Rick were covering Daryl as he threw open the barn's rolling door, but there was nothing. Just what might have once been a delivery truck, nearly filling the place. The three of you exchanged glances, and you gestured to the truck's door with a shrug. 

"One more time?" Rick said easily. 

"Ain't locked," Daryl said, and pushed the door up. 

You stared; he stared; Rick stared.


	17. Fist Pump for Ninja Jesus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence

"Well, how 'bout that?" Cowboy said, and you moved past the two of them to jump up into the truck. 

"Holy shit. Rick, Dixon- are you seeing this?" you called excited. 

Cans, in the box and still wrapped in plastic. Bottled water. The thing was damn gold mine. 

"Hey, toothpaste!" you grabbed a box out and held it up and Rick started laughing. 

"Michonne'll be happy. She's borrowed all of ours from me and Carl," he said with a grin. "Law of averages. Let's get this thing going. Grab our gear, come back for the car later. Take another way back." 

You climbed down after Rick. "Think it'll start?" 

"Yeah, I do," Rick said easily, wrapping an arm lazily around your shoulders as Daryl pulled the back closed again. "Sorghum," he added with a chuckle, and you grinned up at him. 

"Sorghum," you agreed. 

 

They stuck you in the middle- again- and you were scowling out the window. 

"Aw, come on, you're having fun and you know it," Rick teased. 

You tried not to, really you did. But the smile was pulling at your lips again, and you shook your head at him with a sigh. "Yeah," you finally admitted defeat and curled into Daryl's side. He danced his fingers over your arm casually, pressing a kiss to your hair when you leaned your head on his shoulder. 

"Hey, boys?" you said, voice serious. 

They grunted at you, Daryl's fingers stilling. 

"Thanks." 

 

"We need to find him," you said a little later. 

Rick wasn't blasting the music now, to everyone's relief. He glanced over at you, raising an eyebrow. Daryl just sighed. 

"Woman," he started, and you cut him off. 

"No. I'm serious. Not today- today we're looking for supplies and shit. Today's important. But soon. I need- we can't just- Dixon, I have to know," you finished finally, and you were proud of the way your voice stayed steady. 

Rick was nodding. "I get that. We'll get something set up. Get some people out there where Glenn and Nicholas were, start there."   
"I'm going," you said bluntly. 

"No yain't," Daryl shot back, and you just looked at him. He scowled back as silence filled the truck for a long moment. Finally, he gave a frustrated sigh. 

"Fine. I'm goin' with ya." 

Rick was shaking his head at the two of you when you turned back around.

 

He pulled up to the gas station that looked like it'd been abandoned before the apocalypse had started. 

"Hell, Cowboy, why?" you asked, wrinkling your nose as the boys opened the doors. 

"Might be somethin' in there," Daryl grunted. 

This was going to be gross, wasn't it? 

 

"Place is locked," you called. "I'm going around the corner, check for side entrances." 

"Keep ya gun out, woman," Daryl called. "Rick, give me a hand with this." 

He was staring at an overturned vending machine, and you weren't sure what the hell he wanted in there, but him and Rick trying to tip it over and failing left you chuckling as you rounded the building. 

Wait, what was- 

You caught a flash as you heard the vending machine topple over- they'd used the truck; holy fuck Dixon, what was in there that he wanted so badly? Just a hint of movement, too big to be a bird and too fast to be a walker. 

Your gun out, you followed, steps soundless and slow as you used the building as cover. You came around the corner just in time to see someone rushing out in a blur, toward your guys. 

"Shit, shit, shit," you muttered as you followed, skidding around the corner as Daryl and Rick both pulled their guns on- 

Is that a fucking ninja? 

Long coat, beanie, gloves, bandanna over his face and long hair- whoever this was, you liked him already. 

"Hi," he said, hands up, and you grinned. 

"Dude. Sweet coat," you said casually, and Rick shot you a look. 

"Back up, now!" Daryl snapped, and the guy's eyes went from him to Rick to you. You put your gun away and came up to stand between the two of them, considering the new guy. 

"Easy, guys- I was just running from the dead," he said. Rick glanced at you and you shrugged. 

"Didn't see anything back there. I'd just come around when I caught movement and followed him," you told Rick. 

"How many?" Daryl asked. 

"Ten? Maybe more? I'm not risking it," the guy said. 

You snorted. "Ten's no big. Maybe you're not a ninja after all." 

"YN, please don't give the complete stranger a nickname," Rick muttered, his voice sounding pained. 

You flashed a grin at the guy. Oh yeah, that did it. He was officially Ninja. 

"Once it gets to double digits, I start running," Ninja said, responding to your comment. 

"Where?" you asked, curious. You hadn't fought a walker since the big one in Alexandria, and you could use the practice. Ten sounded like a nice safe number. Especially with the three of you, you'd have that mopped up in no time. 

"About half a mile back? They're headed this way. You probably have about... eleven minutes." 

You shrugged and touched Rick's gun hand, lowering it. "Ok. Thanks for letting us know." 

Daryl gave you an annoyed look as he slowly lowered his gun as well. They both eyed the guy suspiciously, but you just gave him a nod. 

"There's more of them than us, right?" he said with a shrug. "Gotta stick together. Do you have a camp?" he asked, finally lowering his hands. 

"Naw," Daryl said before you could respond. 

Well, really, assholes, weren't you out here looking for people? Wasn't this a person? 

"Do you?" Rick fired back, and you rolled your eyes heavenward. 

Of course he had a camp. Of course you had a camp. Just look at you all- too clean to have been out on the road. Ninja's eyes flicked over the three of you, and you knew he knew you were lying. Just like you knew he knew you knew he was lying as he said no. You were smirking at him as he continued. 

"Sorry for running into you. I'm going now. If it's the next world, I hope it's good to you guys." He turned and started away. 

You looked at Rick and Daryl. "I like him," you declared. "Hey!" 

He turned, raised an eyebrow. 

"I'm YN. This is Rick and Daryl," you gestured to them. "What's your name?" 

He pulled the bandanna off his face, and you were delighted to find he had the beard to go with the long hair. He looked like all the paintings you'd seen of Jesus. 

Ninja Jesus, that was him. 

"Paul Rovia," he answered you, then spread his hands. "But my friends used to call me Jesus." 

"Yes!" you shouted, fist pumping into the air. "Ninja Jesus!" 

He laughed, and you could see Rick just shaking his head at you. 

"Got people, or you alone?" you asked conversationally. 

"I'm alone," he said easily, and then he narrowed his eyes just a fraction, smirk still on his lips. "Still, best not to try anything." 

Oh, yeah, you liked this guy. 

"Best not to make threats you can't keep, either," Daryl snapped. 

"Exactly," Ninja Jesus answered, and started jogging away. 

Delighted, you started to call after him, "How many walkers-" 

Daryl grabbed your arm. "No. Not this guy." 

"Why the fuck not?" you asked, and yelled over his head. "How many walkers have you killed?" 

"Sorry, gotta run. You should, too," the guy yelled as he ran away. "Think you've got around seven minutes." 

 

"What the hell was that?" Daryl snapped at you when Ninja Jesus was gone. 

You sighed. "He was clean. Trimmed beard. He has people. He looked at us, saw how clean we were, knew we were lying about having a camp." 

"There's more going on there," Rick said grimly.

"He didn't have a gun either," Daryl put in, and you nodded. 

"Ninjas don't need guns," you said with a grin. "I like him." 

Daryl and Rick both groaned. 

"We could track him. Watch him for awhile, get to know more," you offered, and they looked at each other, considering. 

"Come on, guys! He's a gun-less badass in a leather duster who calls himself Jesus! You know you're just as curious as I am," you said, grinning back and forth at them and bouncing on your toes. 

This was the best you'd felt since Glenn told you Merle was dead. You had a mystery, and you wanted to be on its trail. 

"Yeah, guy calls himself Jesus," Daryl said, scorn in his voice. 

You rolled your eyes, turning to look at him, but gunshots started going off in the distance, behind the building.


	18. Best Day Ever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

All three of you had your guns out and were running toward the sound, not needing words to fall into formation with Rick on point. He slid around the first corner with you and Daryl covering him, and then rounded the second and you groaned. 

Firecrackers in a barrel. 

Slick, but annoying. 

Wait, this was a distraction- 

"Rick, the truck-" you stared, and you heard the engine. 

 

"Shit, shit, shit," you muttered as the three of you charged back around the building, not bothering with stealth this time. 

"Sorry!" Ninja Jesus called, as he started to drive away. 

You stood between the boys, gun gripped loosely in your hands, grinning as you watched him drive down the road, pulling the vending machine behind the truck. 

"Oh, I really, really like him," you muttered. 

Daryl shot you a dirty look. "You're one crazy bitch, ya know that right?" 

You just turned your smile on him and slapped his ass. "You love it and you know it. Come on, boys." 

You took off down the road, shoving your gun back in the holster as you went. They followed, Daryl pausing long enough to scoop up the pack that had fallen from the vending machine. 

 

He'd stopped a mile or so down and disconnected the vending machine. 

Smart, you'd have done the same thing. 

You were still smiling as you and Rick bent over wheezing, trying to catch your breath. You were all in good shape- walkers and all- but hell. Running full out like that was hard. Daryl smashed the glass on the vending machine and started pulling out chips and soda. He held up something orange that looked disgusting. 

"Special request from the doctor," he said, puncturing the side of one can and guzzling before handing it over to you. You passed it right on to Rick, wrinkling your nose. 

"Whatever she wants," Rick muttered, emptying the can as Daryl scowled at you. "She saved Carl's life. We didn't know her and she turned out all right. If there's still people out there- and they're still people- we should bring 'em in." 

"What, like this guy?" Daryl scoffed. 

"No, not this guy," Rick said grimly, and you rolled your eyes. 

You were bringing him in. Ninja Jesus, guys. If he wanted in, they'd get used to it. You leaned over the vending machine and grabbed out the least-disgusting looking soda while they passed their can back and forth. 

You chugged it all, liquid being more important than the fact that it tasted like old syrup, and nodded at the road. "We've still got a trail." 

 

More running. Sweat was dripping down your back and you were about ready to call it quits, but you remembered the challenge in Ninja Jesus' eyes. 

You had to show him up. Had to. 

Daryl pointed to the skid marks on the road and you nodded, coming to a halt as he gestured. Silently, the three of you crouched, lifting your heads just enough to see over the rise in the road. 

Perfect! Son of a bitch had gotten a flat and was changing it. You grinned at the boys and raised your eyebrows. 

See? 

Rick rolled his eyes and Daryl glared at you, but you just started for the trees on the side of the road. They followed you, and once you'd come at him from the side, you gestured to each of them. Rick made a face, but nodded, and Daryl just huffed. 

Plans made, you eased into position and waited while he finished changing the tire. 

Why work when you didn't have to? 

Then you strolled out, gun in hand. 

"Ninja Jesus," you said brightly, and he whirled from closing the back of the truck to look at you. 

Rick sprang from the other side, grabbing the guy from behind. "Hold still and maybe we won't hurt you." 

You just sighed as Ninja Jesus winked at you and exploded into action. He took Rick down, slamming his head back into Rick's nose, and you waited. Daryl came around from behind you to take him on next, and the three of them brawled for a bit. Once Rick tossed him to the ground at your feet, your gun was on his face in an instant. Rick and Daryl were right behind you, and you smiled pleasantly down at the guy. 

"This is done," Rick growled, and Ninja Jesus sighed, staring into three guns and propping himself up on his elbows. 

"Do you even have any ammo?" he asked, and you didn't take your eyes from him as you shifted to aim at the walker coming out of the trees. 

Head shot, one bullet. 

He looked impressed. 

Hell, you were impressed. You'd never done that before, and wouldn't even try to do it again. 

"Ok," Ninja Jesus said. "You gonna shoot me over a truck?" 

"There's a lot of food in that truck," Rick answered. "Keys, now." 

"I think you know I'm not a bad guy," Ninja Jesus started. 

"Yeah? What do you know about us?" 

Oh for fuck's sake, Rick. 

"Come on, Cowboy. I like him. Let's just keep him," you said cheerfully, and Rick's jaw did the thing as he glared into the distance instead of at you. 

Ninja Jesus was looking between you oddly, and you sighed loudly. "Just give the man the keys, ok? He won't ask again, and they only like me so much." 

Rick pulled the hammer back on his revolver, clearly making your point for you. 

 

"Seriously, Cowboy? You're going to leave him like that?" you asked incredulously, as Rick tied the man's hands and feet together. 

"Eh, the knots aren't too tight. He should be able to get free.... after we're long gone."

You heaved a disgruntled sigh, and Ninja Jesus looked at you in amusement. 

"Maybe we should talk now," he said seriously. 

"Naw," Daryl broke in, getting between you and him and shooting the guy a glare. "Here. In case you get thirsty." He shook up one of the soda cans and tossed it at Ninja Jesus' feet. Then Daryl grabbed your arm and hustled you around the truck, but not before you saw Ninja Jesus' grin. 

 

In the cab, Rick spun the keys on his finger for a moment, eyeing the two of you with a grin, and Daryl chuckled a little. Rick finally got the truck moving and you just sighed. 

He was probably loose already and on the back of the truck. 

You should probably say so, but you hadn't had this much fun in- 

Hell, you hadn't had this much fun since that time you'd snuck a stink bomb into Merle's gear bag after a run- retaliation for some dumbass prank he and Daryl had tried to play on you to convince you there was a chupacabra in the woods, haunting the prison. Merle'd grabbed a shower and you'd stolen one of his two clean shirts while he was in there- enlisting a gleeful Carl's help to sneak into the bathroom and get it- and hidden the other in his pack. Then you'd waited in your usual place against the railing of your own tower, Carl snickering at your side, as Merle had stalked back to his tower without a shirt. You saw him looking around, saw him grab his pack and pull the shirt out, looking confused. Then- like you'd known he would- he tossed the pack a little too forcefully into the corner of his room. 

The man had come bursting out of the door onto his own balcony with the shirt held over his face, gasping as soon as the clean air hit him. He'd scowled over at you and Carl, leaning on each other and howling like loons, and yelled some pretty graphic suggestions about what he was going to do to you just as soon as his room aired out enough for him to go through it to the stairs. 

You'd just yelled back "chupacabra my ass!"

Yeah, that had been a good day. You were smiling slightly at the memory even as your eyes filled and the truck got on its way. 

 

"Still worked out," Rick commented as the three of you passed a bag of chips and a candy bar back and forth. "Today is still the day." 

Daryl grunted and you just handed Rick another KitKat half. 

"Hey, look at that barn," you said, and Rick pulled into the field and started for it. 

"You hear that?" Daryl asked as thudding resounded from the back. 

You burst out laughing, and the boys looked at you. "Son of a bitch is on the roof," you said with a grin. 

"Shit!" Rick snarled.

"Dixon, I really, really like this guy," you told Daryl and he just glared at you as Rick slammed on the breaks. 

Ninja Jesus went flying off the roof and landed with a thunk, and the boys stared as he got to his feet, while you were busy trying to learn how to breathe through the laughter. He stared into the cab, the three of you stared back, and then he flashed you a grin and started running. 

Rick floored it. 

 

Daryl licked his fingers, gave you a 'stay-put' look that you knew immediately you would be ignoring, and hopped out while the truck was in motion. Rick yelled at him and then at you as you shifted over to where he'd been and grabbed the oh shit handle above the door, leaning out to watch as Daryl chased Ninja Jesus, who bobbed and weaved and shifted directions. Finally Rick muttered 'shit!' and parked the truck, getting out himself. He pointed at you and told you to stay there, but you just hopped down after him and watched. 

This was seriously the best day ever. 

Daryl was yelling at him and trying to pin him down, but Ninja Jesus was a quick little fucker. Nimble too. 

"I got him!" Dixon yelled to Rick as Rick joined in, and you just stood there and laughed and laughed. 

Then you saw the walkers coming. 

"Rick!" you called, and took off toward the walkers. There weren't that many, but with living and dead adversaries, it was best to get the walkers out of the way first. Rick was on your heels, yelling at you to wait, but you needed this. 

You threw yourself into the center of them, sliding under one set of arms with your knife in one hand and a machete in the other. You tossed your knife and it went a little wide of where you'd hoped, landing point first in a walker's shoulder, where it did absolutely no good. 

You shrugged with a grin. Oh well, after your no-aim head shot you couldn't have hoped for any more walker luck today. 

"What the hell was that?" Rick yelled as he skidded into the fray beside you while you grabbed a walker, slammed the machete through the back of its skull, and pulled it smoothly down and out. You shoved the corpse into the path of one of the others, grabbed the machete two handed, and swung it like a baseball bat at the next one, taking off the top half of the thing's skull and spraying blood and brains everywhere. 

"I mean, I tried!" you said cheerfully. 

"Why are you so happy?" Rick growled at you, as you went for the one with your knife in its shoulder. You danced just out of its reach, getting close enough for it to almost brush you before dipping left or right, just toying with the thing, really. 

Why should Daryl have all the fun? 

"Are you kidding? Aren't you enjoying this?" you yelled back to him. 

"Just end it already! We need to get back over there!" Rick snapped, and you sighed, ran in, and shoved the tip of the machete in through the thing's temple, grabbing your knife and kicking the corpse back. 

You turned to Rick, panting a little, and he was smiling at you. Then you looked behind him at Daryl and Ninja Jesus. 

"Shit!" you yelled and took off, but you knew you wouldn't make it. One of the bastards had gotten past you while you played with the others, and now real fear fueled you. Daryl was half in the cab of the truck, wrestling with Ninja Jesus, and the walker was coming up on him fast. 

Daryl went still, and as you started to scream out a warning, he dropped down rapidly and a shot rang out. The walker dropped and your heart started beating again, except now Ninja Jesus had a gun and you weren't really amused by him anymore. 

If he tried to hurt Daryl, you'd skin him slowly and roast him over an open damn fire. 

 

You shouldn't have worried, because as you skidded to a stop, Daryl was wrestling the guy, trying to drag him out of the truck. 

And then the truck started rolling backward. 

Toward the lake behind it. 

"Dixon, stop playing around!" you yelled, and the two of them came leaping out, Daryl first. Ninja Jesus didn't time his roll very well, and the truck door clocked him on the head as it kept rolling backward. 

All the way into the lake. 

"Son of a bitch," you muttered as you reached Daryl's side and the two of you just stared at it while it sank. 

Rick walked slowly to join you and shot you a glare. "Are you happy now?" he growled. 

"How is this my fault?" you complained, but you felt a little guilty too. 

You'd needed those supplies, and now they were at the bottom of a lake and you'd been laughing and having fun and toying with walkers instead of just putting them down like you should have been. 

"Sorry, Rick," you said after a second, tears starting to burn in your eyes. 

"Damn it, Rick," Daryl snarled, his hand coming to your back, and Rick reached out for your shoulder. 

"No, I'm sorry. It's not your fault. It's that asshole's," he said, jerking his chin in Ninja Jesus' direction.


	19. Do It Again Tomorrow?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
> cannon divergence  
> references to past rape/non con  
> references to past abuse

You were the first one to walk over to where Ninja Jesus lay flat on his back. You could see his chest rise and fall, so you just stood over him as the guys reluctantly joined you. 

"Law of averages. That's bullshit, man," Daryl muttered to Rick. "Come on, woman, let's go check these cars and get the hell out of here." 

"What about him?" Rick asked. 

"Leave 'im," Daryl said flatly. 

"He helped you, Dixon," you admonished him, already crouching down at the guy's side and pulling his coat back. 

"Maybe. Whatcha doin'?" 

"He ever pull a weapon on you?" you asked, glancing up from where you were patting the guy down. "I'm looking for weapons. He doesn't have a gun, but-"   
You pulled a long, wicked looking machete from the guy's back. 

"Well, that's not where I'd have kept it, but still. He didn't pull this, not once," you said, tossing the blade at Daryl's feet. 

He picked it up and scowled at you as you looked at him. "Fine! Fine!" he snapped finally, bending down and grabbing Ninja Jesus' hands and starting to drag him off. 

 

Daryl was in the backseat and he was pissed about it. You'd offered to ride back there with Ninja Jesus, but Daryl and Rick had teamed up and refused, citing the fact that he was, well, a ninja and they didn't want you to be in the line of fire if he woke up and objected to being tied up and driven back to Alexandria. 

You were watching him in the rearview mirror, smiling as he scowled out the window and shoved Ninja Jesus back when he flopped unconsciously onto Daryl's shoulder. 

"Took a pretty hard hit. Denise needs to look him over," Rick said to Daryl. "You wouldn't have left him." 

"Hell yeah I would've. Right up a damn tree," Daryl shot back, and you were grinning out the passenger side. 

Yeah, he would've. Almost had, but you'd made puppy eyes at him- according to him- and Rick had come down on your side. 

 

You fell asleep against the window, and your dreams were crazy. There were walkers, as usual, and you were running, but you were laughing, chasing someone as you ducked the walker arms, feeling a wild joy as you danced circles around them. You didn't know who you were chasing, but you knew you wanted to catch them. 

Then you did, and you grabbed their shoulder and spun them around laughing, only it wasn't who you thought, it was a walker, and it was- 

It was Merle. 

You backed away, a scream in your throat, because it couldn't be Merle, it couldn't-

Then it wasn't Merle, it was the Governor, his head falling half-off from the gash in his neck and his hands reaching for you as his jaw worked, and then it was both of them and more- 

Gareth from Terminus, Creepy Smile Sam, Mr. Punchable with a gunshot wound to his head but somehow still a walker, Jessie and Sam and Ron- 

Merle-

The Governor-

Your asshole ex with a pair of kitchen scissors in his neck- 

All of them falling down onto you as you screamed and screamed and tried to get away, but you couldn't, and their fingers tore into your skin and the Governor tore into your body in other ways and you realized you were in that room, the one in the shed with the metal table and you were going to die on that table this time, because Merle wasn't there to help save you and- 

"Jesus, YN, come on, wake up, wake up!" 

There was a hand on your shoulder and someone was shaking you, and you lashed out blindly at whoever it was. 

"Hey, hey, hey, y'aight, woman, it's just me'n'Rick!" Daryl's voice was low and soothing, and Rick was muttering something under his breath, but the hand on your shoulder was gone. Daryl's voice came from behind you, and you were breathing hard, gasping a little, as you took in the headlights on a dark road in front of you. 

Rick was looking from the road to you, rubbing his jaw and looking at you with his eyes full of concern. 

"You ok?" he asked, and you tipped your head back onto the seat, closing your eyes and not saying anything. 

Daryl's hand slipped around cautiously from the seat beside you to touch your shoulder, and hold on tight. You lifted your hand and laid it over his and gripped it hard. 

"It's aight, woman, ya don't have to talk about it. I know," he whispered to you, and you just nodded. After a minute, you opened your eyes again and looked at Rick. "Did I hit you?" you asked apologetically. 

"It's no big deal," he said, shrugging. "Daryl said grabbing you wasn't a good idea." 

"Still," you said softly. "Sorry, Cowboy." 

"You sure you're ok?" he asked anxiously, and you wondered if he'd ever really noticed one of your nightmares. 

Before the Governor, they'd been strong, but Daryl had told you they weren't super recognizable unless someone was very close to you- say, wrapped around you or in a tiny tent inches apart. After, you'd had some violent, thrashing, vocal ones, but you and Daryl had been in the guard tower for most of them, not around the others. They'd lessened into a rare event by the time you'd been on the road again, so you doubted he'd ever really had to experience them. 

"I'm ok, Cowboy. Just a- a bad one," was all you said, giving him a faint smile. "Where are we?" 

You looked around, deliberately changing the subject, and you could feel Rick and Daryl having a silent conversation in the mirror. 

"We're home," Rick answered, and sure enough, you came around the corner and saw the gates ahead, and one walker impaled on the spiked cars. 

Rick flashed his headlights twice and the gate slid open. 

 

Rick and Daryl hauled Ninja Jesus and you led the way to Denise and Tara's house. 

Those two shacking up was one of the things you'd kind of spaced out on over the last few weeks, but you were delighted by them and for Tara now that you were coming out of the fog losing Merle had put you in. 

You hoped you could stay out of that fog now, because it was hell. 

You rapped on the door, and after a moment the porch light came on. Denise opened the door, Tara on her heels, and just stared. 

"Who's this?" Tara asked. 

"Come on, man, he's heavy," Daryl snapped. "Oh, and that thing- didn't work out. This asshole's fault, sorry." 

Denise sighed. "Lay him on the bed," she said simply, stepping out of the way. 

You leaned in the doorway and watched as they hauled him over. 

"Take a look at him, would ya? He ain't stayin' though," Daryl added with a glare your way. 

You just smirked at him. Sure he wasn't. 

 

After Denise gave him the all-clear, Daryl and Rick scooped him up and hauled him down into the cell. You'd heard all about Denise's adventure with the Wolves, the one Morgan had kept alive who had nearly killed Denise, then tried to take her with him, then saved her from the walkers. Carol had killed the guy, but you didn't know what Rick had done about Morgan's involvement. 

You'd mostly just ignored the Monk after that. 

"Do we really need to leave him down here?" you asked for the third time as Daryl set down a glass of water and a cookie, and Rick laid a note beside Ninja Jesus. 

"Yeah. Now shut up about it. We brought 'im back, didn't we?" Daryl snapped at you, and you just sighed. 

Fine then. 

"Pretty stupid of us to go out there, isn't it?" Rick asked as the three of you trudged slowly home. 

Daryl grunted. "Yeah. Do it again tomorrow?" 

You started laughing as Rick just said 'yep'. 

Oh, you loved these two. 

 

You couldn't sleep. 

You'd told Daryl about the nightmare, and he'd held you while you had a good cry. You'd talked for awhile, and he'd drifted off to sleep, your head on his chest as you listened to his breathing and his heart rate slow. You tried. Warm in his arms, you wanted to sleep. Wanted to rest and forget. 

The adrenaline, the pure joy of feeling alive that the day had held had faded, sapping all of your strength with it. You were left with that gaping, empty void, and it was consuming you.

You slid from the bed, careful not to disturb Daryl, and just looked at him for a moment. He had one arm, the one that'd been wrapped around you, flung across the bed toward you, an open invitation to climb back in and curl back against him. The other was up and under his head, and he had one leg tossed out from under the blanket and hanging over the side of the bed. You noticed, for maybe the thousandth time, how long the man's hair was getting, and made a note to bully him into letting you at least get it out of his eyes. 

Didn't know how he aimed his damn gun. 

He shifted a little in his sleep, making a grumpy little noise, and you smiled softly at him, brushed your fingers over his face before you turned to slide from the room.   
You didn't bother with your gun or with shoes, just padding barefoot through the house, grabbing a bottle of water from the counter, and heading out to the porch. You left the door open behind you and moved to the railing, hopping up onto your perch and looking up at the sky. 

This time of night, Alexandria was dark. The stars shone overhead, and you sighed, picking out constellations mentally. 

 

"You know, travelling after dark like this is how dumbasses get themselves killed," you hissed at Merle and Daryl, sandwiched between them as the three of you moved through the trees, heading back home. 

You'd gone further out than the three of you had meant to, following a deer that you'd gotten an arrow into just shy of the heart. Merle'd given you grief over it until you'd snapped at him that next time, he could shoot the thing with the compound bow.... Oh, wait. 

He'd scowled, and you'd started to feel bad for bringing up his missing hand, but then he'd cracked a grin and fired back that he wouldn't have to if you'd just learn how to hit a damn target. But you'd ended up much further out than you'd wanted to be, and the three of you had ended up losing the damn deer to a herd that came out of nowhere and ambushed you on your way back. You'd been dodging the undead for awhile now, trying to get back to the prison before full dark hit, but here you were, moving close together because visibility in the darkness sucked. 

"Yeah, well, we ain't near enough to none of our drops to stop, so we gotta at least get that far, or find us some kinda cover, little sister," Merle'd answered you, and you'd admitted he was right. 

You came out of the trees into a clearing, and Merle and Daryl had both immediately looked up and panned the night sky slowly to get their bearings. 

"That way," Daryl'd finally said with a nod, and you'd been moving again. 

 

Now you looked up at the North star, and wondered how Daryl still believed his brother was alive. 

Didn't he know, even if Merle'd gotten pinned down or lost, he'd have found his way home by now? 

You sighed, knowing you had to come out of the funk you'd been in. Knowing the grief might never really leave you, but you had to live. For Merle. 

For Daryl. 

For Carl. 

For Rick. 

Hell, for yourself. 

"Goodbye, big brother," you whispered to the night sky as you felt yourself crying again. "Love you, you asshole." 

You slid off the railing with a sigh, scanning the road and the houses as you turned to go back inside. You glanced down the other way, past Maggie and Glenn's house- Abraham and Sasha had moved into their own across the street- and down to Rick, Michonne, and the kids'. All was well, so you turned to head back inside when you saw it- 

Just a flash of movement that had you whipping your head back around for another look. 

"Son of a bitch!"


	20. Ninja Jesus Broke Into Rick's House and That's Actually A Good Thing

You dropped the water bottle, scrambling toward the door, and snatched your bow and quiver from just inside the door. 

No time to get your gun, no time to get Daryl.

Ninja Jesus was breaking into Rick's house. 

God, you hoped you weren't wrong about him. 

 

He was sitting on their stairs, holding a painting, when you eased around the corner. You looked at him and up beyond, and saw Carl behind him with his gun. Carl caught your eye and you gave him a nod. 

He stepped out rapidly, gun to Ninja Jesus' head. "What the hell are you doing in our house?" 

"Yes, especially since I know you were left in the cell, unconscious," you added mildly, stepping out with your bow drawn and aimed. 

Jesus smiled at you. "Hello again. I'm, ah, sitting on the steps, looking at this painting, waiting for your mom and dad to get dressed." 

Wait, what? What? 

You glanced at Carl, he glanced at you, and both of your eyes were wide. Jesus was looking at Carl, so you mouthed 'mom and dad?' 

Carl just shrugged slightly, and you sighed, lowering your bow. 

"Ok, I know you're Ninja Jesus and all, but there should have been a guard. Wasn't there a guard?" you asked, and now Carl was looking really confused. 

Then Rick's bedroom door opened and out came him and Michonne, Rick without a shirt and with a guilty look at Carl. 

"Finally!" you exclaimed, delighted at what had obviously happened there, and then you heard the door open and Daryl, Maggie, Glenn, and Abraham were all coming up behind you on the stairs. 

Rick was bright red when you shouted, but Michonne just winked at you as you grinned at them. 

"It's ok," you told the others as Rick started to pull his shirt on and Jesus just smirked. 

"You said we should talk," Rick snarled at Jesus. "So let's talk." 

 

You sent Glenn, Maggie, and Abraham home. Daryl glared at you, pissed that you'd left without waking him up. 

"Sorry," you told him quietly as he handed you your gun. You shoved it into the waist of your jeans at the center of your back, since you didn't have your belt on. Hell, you didn't have shoes on, but your bow and quiver were a familiar weight against your back and you realized you'd missed having them there, where they belonged. 

"I was on the porch. Needed some air. I saw him coming in the window and had to run. My bow was just inside the door, and I didn't think there was time. Should have known Grimes would be on top of things," you added as you and Daryl walked to the table. You ruffled Carl's hair as you dropped down to sit beside him, across the table from Rick and Michonne and between Carl and Jesus. 

Daryl just grunted as Carl gave you a small smile, looking at his dad and Michonne more than anywhere else. The two in question had the grace to look extremely guilty even as they tried to look intimidating. 

"How'd you escape?" Rick asked, and Jesus- who was watching everything a little too closely- shrugged. 

"One guard can't cover two exits. Or third floor windows. Knots untie and locks get picked." 

"Where'd you have something to pick locks?" you said, annoyed. "I searched you myself!" 

He gave you a slight smile. "Didn't check my hair," he answered. 

You groaned. You weren't used to men having hair long enough to hide things in, though you'd read enough spy books as a kid that you should have looked anyway. 

"I checked out your arsenal," he admitted, and Rick's jaw did the twitch. "I haven't seen anything like that in a long time. You're well-equipped, but your provisions are low. Very low for the amount of people you have." 

Rick, Daryl, and Michonne all scowled, but you were watching Jesus steadily. "And?" 

"Fifty-four, right?" he asked, turning his attention to you when you spoke. 

You shrugged. "More than that." 

Jesus gave a frustrated look at the serious faces, finally focusing on Daryl. "Look, we got off to a bad start. But we're on the same side- the living side. You and Rick and YN had every reason to leave me out there, but you didn't." 

"Yeah, she's the reason," Daryl nodded in your direction, and Jesus turned back to you and smiled. 

"Thank you, then. I'm from a place that's a lot like this one," he continued, and you leaned forward intently. 

You'd known. You'd known since the moment you found Alexandria that there had to be more places like it. There had to be more people in the world. Terminus, Woodbury, Alexandria- they couldn't be the only places left standing.Something sparked in you, something that had been mostly dead since the Governor'd rolled up with his tank outside the community you'd built with your own hands. Something that craved law and order and the real world, not the brutality you'd grown accustomed to. 

Once upon a time, you'd been the first to talk about civilization and rebuilding it. You'd brought a man who'd attacked you twice to the group for judgement, believing that one person shouldn't be judge, jury, and executioner; that justice was different that vengeance. 

Now you were more of the stab first question later kind, and there was an awful lot of blood on your hands. 

How many walkers have you killed? Probably somewhere in the thousands by now.

How many people have you killed? You didn't know, not anymore. Not after Terminus. There'd been too many of them and things had been too busy for you to keep count. At least twenty, most likely, between Terminus and the Claimers and the Governor and your asshole ex and Pete and Collin-Carter-Whatever and the man who'd been part of the group that attacked your first group, and you didn't even know who else. 

Why? Because that's what the apocalypse did to people. Because you and yours had to survive. 

"Part of my job is searching out other settlements to trade with. I took your truck because my community needs things, and you two looked like trouble," Jesus continued, looking at Rick and Daryl seriously. 

"Hey," you said, seriously affronted. You were the Troublemaker. Didn't you look like trouble too? Carl snorted beside you as Jesus looked over and raised an eyebrow. 

"Don't worry, Troublemaker. Not looking like trouble is what lets you be as much trouble as you are," Carl teased, and you grinned at him over your shoulder before turning back to Jesus. 

"You, I would have talked to," Jesus said with a nod in your direction. 

"That's cause I called you a ninja, isn't it?" you said smugly, and he smiled at you. Daryl growled at you and Rick just looked at the ceiling while clenching his jaw tightly. 

"Oh, come on, Cowboy; lighten up," you said. "Ninja Jesus, do you have food? In your community?" 

He leaned forward and looked at you seriously. "I think we may be in a position to help each other. We've started to raise livestock. We scavenge, we grow. Everything from tomatoes to sorghum." 

The magic grain. You felt yourself starting to come alive, felt excitement sparking inside. You fixed Rick with a look, and he was looking back, knowing what you were thinking. Daryl was pacing behind Jesus' back, and Michonne and Carl had been quiet for most of the meeting. Rick gave you the briefest of nods; he too was interested, but he he tilted his head at you minutely as well. 

Cautious, but interested. You twitched your chin in acceptance, and both of your turned back to Jesus. 

He had that faint smile as he looked between the two of you, and you knew he saw more than he let on. 

"Tell us why we should believe you," Rick asked with a gesture. His face was set, but you knew Jesus had seen your exchange. 

"If we take a car, I can take you back home in a day, ad you can all see for yourselves who we are and what we have to offer."

Suddenly something he'd said hit you. "Wait, if you're looking for more settlements, that means you're already trading with other groups," you said slowly, and he sat back in his chair, looking smug. 

"Your world's about to get a whole lot bigger," he said, and that did it. You were freaking in.

You turned to Rick. "Cowboy." 

He held up a hand. "I know. Sustainability. Order. Government. I've heard it all before." 

 

"So," you said conversationally as you knelt on the floor between Rick and Michonne's seats. 

You were in the RV, the only single vehicle big enough to hold the crowd that had wanted to go. Rick, Michonne, Maggie, Glenn, Abraham, Daryl, you, and Jesus- even the RV was a little crowded. 

Carl had given you a one-armed hug, juggling Judith on his hip, and made a disparaging comment about his face when you'd asked why he wasn't going. You'd given him a hard look, wondering if you were going to need to have a talk with him about scars not being the end of the world. You had some nasty ones of your own, after all, the most recent being the long one along your cheek you'd gotten from a lucky hit by some asshole in Terminus. 

Now Abraham was awkwardly asking Glenn something about pancakes and Bisquick that you really didn't want to be listening in on, since you knew it had to do with their baby. 

So you'd much rather pry into the other sex life that seemed to have just recently begun. 

Rick and Michonne looked at each other and then out the windows, both of them blushing and trying not to smile. 

"Fine, ok, don't tell me how long that's been going on. I don't care. Not a bit," you teased, and Michonne laughed. You leaned forward and kissed first her cheek and then Rick's. "I love you both, and I've been waiting for you to get your heads out of your asses and notice that you're pretty much perfect together. Just be good to each other, ok. I'm happy for you." 

Michonne looked almost misty-eyed as Rick reached over and grabbed her hand, turning to look at you for just a moment, his smile bright. "Thank you," he said seriously. 

Then you glanced out the front and saw the blood on the road first, then the car in the ditch with walkers trapped in and under it. "Jesus!" 

"Yes?" he answered from behind you, and you appreciated that- really you did- but not right now, when you were looking at a fresh crash. 

"What's goin' on?" Daryl asked. 

"Crash out front," Rick said. "Looks like it just happened." 

"It's one of ours!" Jesus' voice was full of distress as he opened the door and jumped out before Rick had fully stopped.


	21. Another Smartass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
> cannon divergence  
> references to past miscarriage/pregnancy loss

You were following him a heartbeat later, the RV still in motion, and Daryl was calling your name in that annoyed tone. You followed, feeling sick for the people in the wreck, trapped in the mangled car and already turning into walkers. Jesus looked just as wrecked as the vehicle was, scanning the bloody, mangled thing. 

Then Rick was there, gun pointed at Jesus' head when he turned. "If this is a trick, it won't end well for you." 

"My people are in trouble," Jesus said, his eyes going a little wild as the rest of your group climbed out and took a look around. "We don't- we don't have a lot of fighters. I know how it looks, but I'll play it out. Can I borrow a gun?" 

"No," Daryl snapped. "We got tracks right here." 

"Rick, Daryl," you snapped, watching Jesus' face. "Look at him. How would you feel if it were us, and you were being held at fuckin' gunpoint?" 

You stepped in Rick's way, and he lowered the gun, glaring at you. You pulled your own gun from it's holster, turning to Jesus. "Don't make me regret this, Ninja. With or without a gun, cross us, hurt my people- I'll kill you slowly." 

He nodded and took it, and while the rest of your people glared, you set off toward the house in the distance, bow drawn and Jesus at your heels. 

 

Rick grabbed your arm and got in front of you as you started toward the door, giving you a look that promised a good old Dixon-Grimes grudgefest to follow. He rapped on the door with his gun. 

Silence. 

"They gotta be in there," Jesus said anxiously, and you gave him a calming look. 

"We'll find them," you told him. 

Daryl shoved between you and Jesus. "How do we know this ain't firecrackers in a trashcan?" 

"You don't," Jesus snapped, tossing his arms in frustration. 

"Rick!" You were pissed now. 

"We'll get your people. You're staying here with one of us." Rick said, leveling Jesus with a glare. "YN, you seem to trust him the most. Stay here." 

"I'll stay too," Maggie said, and you sighed. 

"Just hurry," Jesus said, resigned, as Rick pulled your gun from his hands and handed it back to you before snapping handcuffs onto him. 

"We will. If we whistle, shoot him," Rick told you and you just ground your teeth. 

No. 

"I will," Maggie said firmly, raising her gun and pointing it at Jesus' head. 

Oh for fuck's sake!

Daryl gave you a long look before he followed the rest of them into the house. 

 

"Maggie, lower it. You can't aim at someone's head for long without pulling the trigger," you said disgustedly after a moment. She sighed, but lowered it slightly to where it was in a more comfortable grip. 

"Why do you trust him?" she asked you in a low voice. 

You sighed, watching Jesus anxiously watch the door. You looked over at Maggie, noticing how long her hair had gotten, and how pale she looked. Morning sickness was probably killing her these days. You remembered. You didn't want to, but you remembered. 

"Because. He's just- I mean, look at him. See the way he's watching?" 

Jesus looked over at you as you spoke, meeting your eyes with a nod before going right back to staring at the door. 

"He had plenty of opportunities to hurt us while we were out there. Hell, he could have killed either Rick or Daryl before I got to them. That'd have been stupid, because he couldn't kill them both and certainly not all three of us, but he could have. He could have shot Daryl or just let him get bit, but he killed the walker instead. And if he could ninja his way past the guard to get loose in Alexandria and sneak all the way to Rick's house, where he was only noticed by pure dumbass luck, he could have done a hell of a lot worse. But he didn't." You shrugged, and Jesus chuckled a little. 

"I like you," he said quietly, and you grinned. 

"Yeah, same, dude. Dixon and Rick will come around," you added cheerfully. "I'll convince them." 

Maggie snorted as Jesus chuckled. 

"You do seem to have them wrapped around your fingers. I wasn't sure which one of them you were with to begin with. They both love you, and you love them. It's obvious in how you interact. And they trust you, implicitly. No boundaries on that," Jesus said. 

Maggie laughed a little. "He's got you figured out, YN." 

You shook your head. "Rick's a brother to me, same as-" 

You broke off, heart clenching and the air rushing from your lungs without warning. Jesus gave you a look of sympathy as Maggie touched your shoulder. 

"Lost someone recently?" he said quietly, and you nodded, once, swallowing hard. 

"Her brother-in-law," Maggie whispered, rubbing your shoulder. "Daryl's brother." 

Jesus nodded slowly. "No wonder he's angry and distrustful." 

Then the door was opening and Daryl strode through, Rick and the others at his heels, and Jesus sighed in relief as people who were obviously his friends followed them. Rick met your eyes and nodded as Daryl came to your side, seeing the tears on your cheeks. 

"You aight, woman?" he asked, and you smiled. 

"Fine. Just had a moment, that's all," you answered, and he touched your face gently while Rick took the handcuffs off of Jesus. 

"Let's go, people," Rick said. 

 

You sat in Daryl's lap, eyes closed, listening to the conversations around you. 

You'd saved a doctor. An obstetrician. You'd trusted Jesus and saved a baby doctor for Maggie and Glenn. Daryl's arms had tightened around you when the man had said that, and you'd leaned into him. 

You knew there wasn't anything that could have saved your baby- it had been too quick; that one hard hit from the Governor, and then the pain mere moments later-but still. You couldn't help but wonder. You were so happy for the two of them, but so guilty and sad for yourselves and your own baby. Daryl pressed a kiss to your hair as Jesus talked to one of his people, the one with the injured leg, and the man said he'd seen his wife when he thought he was going to die, a wife he'd lost before the world ended. You cuddled a little closer to Daryl, enjoying this little moment of peace. 

It probably wouldn't last long. 

 

You were right. Rick got the RV stuck in the mud about five minutes later. 

"Storm must have passed through here last night. We're stuck," he said, sounding pissed. 

Jesus stood up as you climbed reluctantly off Daryl's lap. "No worries. We're here," he declared, patting Rick on the arm. 

You all filed out of the RV and stood there, staring at a wall on the hill in front of you. 

"That's us," Jesus said cheerfully. "That's the Hilltop." 

Oh, someone had taken the easy way out on that name.

 

You walked up to the gate, right up the muddy track of a road, Jesus in the lead and Abraham bringing up the rear. You walked just behind Jesus, between Daryl and Rick, and you were feeling bizarrely cheerful about the whole thing. 

"Stop right there!" a voice called, and everyone of your group except you had weapons out and aimed. 

"You gonna make us?" Daryl snarled, even as Jesus held up his hands, turning to caution your people. 

"For shit's sake, guys, would we have let someone walk right up to the gates unchallenged?" you asked, arms crossed. 

Jesus smiled at you even as the guards on either side of their gate scowled. 

"Jesus, what the hell is this?" one asked, and- 

Oh the puns. Your lips twitched as you held them all in. Well, except for one. 

"If he's Jesus, he doesn't know much about hell!" you yelled back, and there was a pause. 

"Fuck, another smart ass," a disgusted voice came quietly. 

 

Well, Gregory was a complete tool, but Hilltop was amazing. They had chickens, gardens, an honest-to-God blacksmith's forge- the wheels started churning as you walked in, taking everything in. There were trailers, living history set ups, and the huge colonial mansion all grouped together behind that rather imposing wall, and you wanted nothing more than to dig into what this place was and what it could be. 

That view from the cupola on top of Barrington House was something you itched to see- sight lines for miles according to Ninja Jesus, who'd seen you looking and started answering questions before you asked them. Rick and the others had joined in after he volunteered the first bit, and you'd learned a lot about the place from Jesus. 

You were interested in the man himself, too. You wanted to know what role he had here. Gregory was in charge, according to Jesus, but you had seen the gate guards, you heard the pride and the command in his voice as he talked about the place, about them planning to build. 

And then that tool Gregory had come out, claimed to be the boss, and told you all to get cleaned up- whatever that meant. You'd recognized the power play immediately, and watched, amused, as Rick handled it rather well. 

You stepped to Maggie's side as Jesus rolled his eyes and led your group up the stairs. "How you feeling, Maggie?" you asked her with a smile. 

She gave you a look and raised an eyebrow. "You hate him and don't want anything to do with him, so you want me to keep an eye on Rick during the meeting so you don't have to," she said, amusement in her tone. 

You grinned. "Yep."

Rick dropped back to join the two of you. "YN-" he started and you just held up your hands. 

"Nope. Maggie's turn," you declared, and you saw Jesus turn his face away quickly, with a grin. 

"Fine," Rick growled. "Maggie, you clean up first, then talk to him. I shouldn't." 

Maggie just sighed. 

 

Maggie took Gregory, and you were infinitely grateful, especially when she reported that he'd been a complete tool and refused to trade for anything. She had come out of the room looking frustrated as all hell, and now sat looking annoyed beside Glenn. Abraham was leaning in a corner, Daryl was pacing, and you were leaning on the back of Rick's chair when Jesus came in. 

He didn't have the ninja getup on anymore, and he looked just as annoyed as Maggie did.

"We want to trade. Gregory does. But ammo isn't something we urgently need," he said seriously, and Rick looked shocked. 

"How's that?" he asked. 

"Walls hold," Jesus said simply. "We just brought in more medicine. Gregory wants the best deal possible." 

"Well, we want things too," Daryl snapped. 

"If Gregory wants such a good deal, why isn't he negotiating for it with us? Why just shut things down completely?" you asked, trying to de-escalate things. 

Jesus glanced at you. "He's playing hardball. It's all a power tactic. He thinks he's a politician." 

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, I know all about that." 

"We need food. We came all this way; we're not leaving here without it." Rick's voice was a hard contrast to the easy camaraderie between you and Jesus. 

"I will talk to him, and we will work this out," Jesus said seriously. "Circumstances change. Right now we're doing well. You'll be next. I will make him understand that. Can you give me a few days?" He looked from Rick to you and back. 

"We can," you answered, and Rick gave you a look. You perched on the arm of the chair beside his and leaned forward, lowering your voice. "There are people here, Cowboy. We can wait a few days before we take any drastic steps." 

Rick finally nodded. "Yeah," he said, looking back a Jesus. 

Jesus was studying you and Rick, and he nodded. 

 

There was a commotion, and Gregory slammed open the doors of his office as one of their people came in from the outside. Someone was back, and Jesus and Gregory exchanged a look and headed outside. 

You rose and followed, Daryl at your side and the others on your heels. Three people had come in the gates, and Gregory was asking where the others were. So there had been more than three when they left. 

"They killed them," the woman said. 

"Negan?" Gregory asked, and you felt Daryl stiffen beside you. 

Negan, Negan- shit, that was who the motorcycle people he'd encountered had said their guns had belonged to. Well, this was going to get interesting. 

"Was the drop light?" the guy with the topknot asked intensely, and Gregory denied it. 

"They have Craig," Topknot said, and there was something in his voice. You eased forward as he stepped toward Gregory. 

"They said they'd keep him alive, return him to us, if I deliver a message to you," Topknot continued, putting a hand on Gregory's shoulder. 

"Well, tell me," Gregory said, and- 

Shit! You were moving a second too late as Topknot pulled a knife and stabbed it into Gregory's stomach. 

"I had to! Get off of me!" he was screaming as you slammed into him, and Rick was right behind you, taking the guy to the ground. You let Rick take him and spun, knife in your hand, to look at the rest of your people. 

Jesus and Maggie had gone straight to Gregory, easing him to the ground. The other guy who'd come in after your group was on top of Abraham, and before you could move to help, Daryl was breaking the guy's elbow. So that fight was well in hand. Glenn was covering Maggie and Michonne had the woman in hand, and- 

Topknot rolled Rick and got a knife to his throat, yelling that anyone who tried to stop him was killing his brother. 

Yeah, you didn't really care. You met Rick's eyes, and he gave you the look. Your knife was in your hand and you were at Topknot's side, and he turned to glare at you, shifting the knife on Rick's throat just a fraction. 

Your own knife flashed out, and blood was pouring over your hand and down onto Rick, who rolled the guy's soon-to-be corpse as you held out your hand to pull him to his feet. You heard the step and glanced up to see Daryl at your side. 

People all around were staring, even your own people. You and Rick glanced at each other. 

"What?" Rick asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry for the update delay! Went on vacation for a few days, but I'm back at the keyboard now, inspired and ready to roll! Thanks for your patience and the love. :)


	22. Rick's Rag-tag Band of Merry Killers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon-typical violence

"You killed Nathan!" The guy whose arm Daryl'd broken yelled it from the ground, and Rick shrugged. 

"He tried to kill Gregory and then me," he said, and you nodded. 

Then the chick came up out of nowhere and slammed her fist into your jaw. 

"Fuck!" you exclaimed as your head snapped to the side with the force of the blow, and you shot up a hand to hold the boys back. Turns out they weren't the ones you should have worried about, because you heard a thunk and when you looked, Michonne was standing over the woman. 

"Don't," Samurai said, her voice hard. 

Jesus scrambled up from beside Gregory and got between you and one of the gate guards, yelling for the guard to drop his spear. Rick's gun was drawn and pointed at the guard, and a glance around showed Glenn with his gun in hand, Daryl already drawn on broken arm guy, and Michonne with her sword out. Abraham was flat on his back, and Maggie was still trying to help Gregory, which needed to be a priority. 

Jesus stood between Rick and Spear Guard, arms outstretched, making a speech. Rick was, surprisingly, listening. 

"What can I do?" he asked Jesus, and before Jesus could answer, you put your hand out and pushed his gun down. 

"We've done enough, Cowboy," you told him quietly, and Jesus gave you a grateful look. 

"You need to know, things aren't as simple as they might seem. Just give me some time," Jesus said. 

 

You made your way up to the cupola, and the view was exactly what you'd thought it would be. There was a scuffing sound behind you, and you glanced over to see Jesus leaning against the trap door, elbows braced on the floor. You smiled at him and he climbed the rest of the way up. 

"View's amazing," you said softly. "Really can see for miles." 

"Yeah," he agreed, coming to the window beside you. "Doctor patched Gregory up." 

"Mmm. So what happens now?" you asked. "I killed one of yours." 

"It's done. He tried to kill Rick. He tried to kill Gregory."

You looked at Jesus, who stood there with his arms crossed. "You run this place, don't you?" 

"No," he said with a shake of his head and an amused smile. "Gregory isn't the leader I would have chosen, but the people like him and he keeps this place going." 

"Sure," you said mildly. Jesus shot you a glance from the corner of his eye and you smirked at him. "So who's Negan? Daryl and Abraham had a run in with some of his men awhile back." 

Jesus' face grew serious. "He leads a group called the Saviors. I should probably be telling Rick this, shouldn't I?" 

You shrugged. "I'm here. I can fill Rick in, or you can go through it all again." 

"Oh, so you run their place, then," Jesus said, and you laughed. 

"Well played," you acknowledged. "Negan. Saviors. Tell me." 

"They came right after the walls went up. Said give us half your stuff, or we kill you. Killed a sixteen year old boy to make their point. Gregory doesn't handle confrontation well, so he made the deal," Jesus answered softly. 

"Jesus," you whispered. "That's- ok. Yeah. We need to talk to Rick and the others." 

 

"What do you get out of the deal?" Daryl asked Jesus. 

"They don't attack this place," Jesus answered bluntly. "We're not fighters, even if we had ammo." 

"How many men does he have?" Rick asked, and you knew what he was thinking. 

"We don't know. We've seen groups as big as twenty."

"So hold up. They show up, they kill a kid, and you give them half of everything?" Daryl said, and he sounded pissed. "These dicks just got a good story. The boogeyman, he ain't shit." 

You reached for Daryl's arm, and he looked at you. Looked like the three of you were on the same page, you knew as you glanced between Daryl and Rick grimly. 

"How do you know?" Jesus asked, voice tight. 

"About a month ago, we took his guys out PDQ," Abraham rumbled from the corner. "Left them in pieces and puddles." 

"We'll do it," you said, and Rick and Daryl nodded. Maggie and Michonne looked concerned, Glenn looked watchful, Abraham looked intrigued. 

"If we got get ya boy back, kill Negan, take out his men, will you hook us up?" Daryl asked. "We want food, medicine, and one of them cows out there." 

Jesus looked at you, confusion written all over his face. You shrugged. 

"Confrontation's never been something we've had a problem with." You lifted your hand, which despite a cursory scrubbing, still had red stains under the nails. 

"I'll take it to Gregory," he said softly, and left the room. 

 

Gregory agreed, after a discussion with Maggie in which she dominated, like the badass you knew she was. Deanna had been right about her being a leader, and if you'd had any doubts about leaving negotiation in her hands, they were gone now. 

She'd even gotten permission to make Dr. Carson her and Glenn's personal doctor, and now you were on your way back to Alexandria with your people, Jesus, one of the Hilltop's crew who knew the Savior compound, and a beaming Maggie and Glenn passing around a sonogram picture that made you smile even as your heart hurt. 

Tiny little peanut was barely distinguishable in the picture, but that didn't matter in the slightest. It was beautiful, and their happiness was beautiful. If you leaned into Daryl's shoulder and closed your eyes, and he tightening his grip around you and pressed a kiss to your hair, well- who could blame the two of you? 

 

Rick called a meeting at the church when you got back. Your friends who came to meet you eyed him warily, knowing something was up. 

Carol was there, wearing her sweater and soccer mom pants, and carrying a bag full of cookie. Fucking cookies. You hadn't seen her in weeks, since she'd come to check on Carl, and there she was- looking like nothing had happened. Like Merle hadn't been anything to her, like it didn't bother her any now that he was gone. 

She caught you looking at her and she looked away as if guilty as the RV pulled away. 

 

"We can work with the Hilltop," you declared, sitting on one of the pew backs. You faced the group, Rick standing at your side, and looked over the sea of faces. "Maggie hammered out a deal."

"We're getting food- eggs, butter, fresh vegetables," Rick added, hand on his belt and hip cocked. "But they're not just giving it away." 

"These Saviors," you took up, voice grim. "They almost skilled Daryl, Sasha, and Abraham on the road. Now, sooner or later, they'd have found us, just like those Wolves did." 

"Just like Jesus did. They would have killed some of us. Then they'd try to own us." You glanced over at Rick, holding down a smirk at the way he stood in front of the stained glass window, the light from it giving him a nice little halo for dramatic effect. "And we would try to stop them. But by then, in that kind of fight, low on food, we could lose." 

"This is the only way to be sure, as sure as we can get, that we win. And we have to win," you added, meeting the eyes of the most skeptical looking. 

Daryl was the only one who really looked unconcerned, one arm tossed along the back of the pew you had your feet propped on, his eyes roaming the crowd as well. Tara looked scared but determined, and she gave you a tiny nod of encouragement. The Monk, though, at the very back of the room- he just stared at you and Rick with such disappointed eyes. He was going to be a problem. 

Everyone else had nervous, frightened, or uncertain expressions, and there was a general shifting and murmuring. You understood; this was like nothing you'd ever discussed before. Hell, it wasn't even anything your group had done. None of you had ever been bent on annihilation for any of your enemies, except maybe the Claimers and the Terminus assholes, and even that was in self defense. 

You and Rick and Daryl could- and did- argue that this would be self defense as well, but all three of you knew it was a preemptive strike. You knew it would change you, change your people, and it wasn't something you took lightly. You were worried, just like everyone else. 

But you, at least, knew you had to do it. For your people. 

"We do this for the Hilltop, it's how we keep this place. It's how we feed this place. This needs to be a group decision. If anybody objects, here's your chance to say your piece," Rick finished, gesturing toward the floor. Jesus, beside him, said nothing, back in is full ninja gear.

There was a general rustling and sideways glances, and then the Monk stood. You watched him levelly, bracing yourself for what might come. 

"You're sure we can do it?" he asked Rick, not looking at you. "We can beat them?" 

"What this group has done, what we've learned. What we've become, all of us- yes, I'm sure," you spoke up, and Morgan glanced at you and then back at Rick, nodding. 

"Then all we have to do is just tell them that," he said. 

"They don't compromise," Rick started, and Morgan cut in. 

"This isn't a compromise. It's a choice you give them. It's a way out, for them and for us." 

You glanced around the room as he spoke, and some people looked interested- just Alexandrians, though. Most of your own group, Rick's rag tag band of merry killers, looked grim and determined, and Carol- well, Serial-killer Susie looked odd. A different kind of odd than normal. Jesus was giving Rick a long look, as if he wondered where this was going to go. You heaved a sigh. 

"If we try and talk to the Saviors, we give up our advantage. We have to come for them before they come for us," you said. 

"We can't leave them alive," Rick agreed. 

"Where there's life, there's possibility," Morgan objected. 

"Yeah, of them hitting us!" you exploded, gripping the pew back hard to keep from shooting to your feet and pacing. 

"We're not trapped in this," Morgan snapped. "None of you are trapped in this." He looked around at the faces of those gathered. 

"They always come back, Monk," you said simply, shrugging your shoulders. 

"Come back when they're dead, too," he added, and you grinned suddenly. 

"We'll stop them then, too. Have before," you said, lifting an eyebrow and waving a hand to include the room. A low chuckle ran around your people and some of the Alexandrians that knew you best. 

"I'm not talking about the walkers," Morgan said, voice hard. 

Rick cut in, ending it before you could make another smart ass response. "Morgan wants to talk to them first. I think that would be a mistake, but it's not up to me. I'll talk to the people still at home, the people on guard now, too, but who else wants to approach the Saviors, talk to them first?" 

Aaron shot to his feet. "What happened here. We won't let that happen again. I won't." He sat back down, giving you and Rick a nod, and no one else moved or spoke. 

"Looks like it's settled," Rick said, and you stayed quiet, content to let him work his magic. "We know exactly what this is. We don't shy from it, we live. We kill them all. We don't all have to kill. But-" He paused for a moment, jaw working as he looked everyone in the eye. "If people are gonna stay here? They do have to accept it." 

And then in true Rick Dramatic Son of a Bitch Grimes fashion, he tilted his head, glared at the doors, and strode out between the rows of pews, leaving everyone looking uneasily around in his wake.


	23. No Reason To Be Subtle About It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
> smut-adjacent-ness

That night you roamed the house restlessly, pacing from one room to another. Daryl was in the shower, and you considered sneaking in and joining him, burning off some of the restless energy with some shower shenanigans. You wanted to; wanted to lose yourself in him even as he grounded you in the here and now, in yourself. You hesitated outside the door, listening to the sound of water running and Daryl humming tunelessly from inside. 

He'd never admit to it, of course, but you smiled, oddly touched by the sound. 

Then you pushed away from the wall with a sigh, feet carrying you on, unable to settle. You moved noiselessly through the darkened rooms, thinking about the next day and what it would bring. 

Andy had drawn a crude sketch, leaning over Rick's dining room table a few hours earlier. You, Daryl, Rick, Michonne, Jesus, and Carl had been grouped around, watching as he did. 

Rectangular building, big satellites on it. No windows that the Hilltop man could remember. The Saviors had made it so there was only one way in. At least two guards outside. Unknown number of people, but their storage room wasn't all that big, according to Andy. He'd been inside, but not very far- just to a specific storage room. Once, he'd seen a couple of the Saviors take some spears down a hallway to another room, and you'd agreed with Rick that it had to be an armory. 

You'd decided to go in at night, while they were sleeping. Take the armory so the Saviors couldn't, kill as many of them in their sleep as you could, take out the rest however it came. Take all their shit and split it with the Hilltop. It was brutal and cold and that was probably why you felt so damn restless now. 

You acted cold, and in the heat of battle or when someone threatened your people, you were the ice queen. But this? Well, this was different. 

You were upstairs, wandering the hallway. You stopped in the door of Carol's room and looked around.

There was nothing there; nothing of hers. The bed was neatly made and the whole room felt stuffy and unused. She'd moved out, and she hadn't even bothered to tell either of you. She just left. You sighed and pulled the door closed, feeling an ache as you did. 

You missed your friend, a lot. 

 

"Carol, come on! Why wouldn't you want people to know? The two of you are so damn cute together!" you giggled over your glass of wine, and she shook her head, blushing hard. 

Merle was on the wall and Daryl was out on a three day run with Aaron, so it was just the two of you girls in the house for the night. The two of you had taken full advantage, and candles were lit, the place was spotless, the sheets and towels fresh. Now you were curled on the couch in the living room, sipping wine and chatting like it was Girl's Night at Maggie's tower. You'd tried to have a real girl's night, getting Maggie and Tara and Michonne to come over, but they'd had other plans, so it was just the two of you and the chocolate Carol had bribed Olivia into giving her. 

Carol was blushing and shaking her head. "There's nothing to tell people, really," she protested. "We just- we're-" 

"You're what? A couple?" you teased, and she laughed. 

"No, not really. Maybe. Almost," she said, and changed the subject to you and Daryl. 

 

You stood at the door to Merle's room, just down the hall from Carol's. You and Daryl had been given the master bedroom, and Merle had taken the one closest to the stairs. You knew he took that one so he would be first in line against any intruders, and it made you smiled as you touched the knob on the closed door. 

You set one hand against the wooden door, took a deep breath, and opened it slowly. You hadn't come in here since you'd talked to Glenn. Hell, you hadn't even looked at this door since the morning you'd left for the quarry, when Merle had slammed it in your face when you'd woken him up bright and early that morning.

You closed the door softly behind you, moving around in the dark to turn on the lamp beside Merle's unmade bed. Damn Dixons were awful sloppy. You looked around, a smile on your lips. 

There were clothes tossed in a pile on top of the chair in the corner, a handful of bullets littering the dresser, and a couple of tattered paperbacks and a half-empty bottle of water on the nightstand beside the bed. You lifted one of the paperbacks- some crime thriller that Merle'd been bitching about being awful before you left for the quarry- and ruffled the pages absently. A Polaroid photo fell out, and you bent and lifted it curiously. 

You sank to the edge of the bed, tears filling your eyes as you looked at the picture in your hand. It was creased, where it had obviously been folded in half, and there were a couple of small red stains, across the bottom and splattered along the picture itself, that you knew were blood. There was a smudged, bloody fingerprint in the center, obviously from someone snatching it up hastily, and you wondered when that had happened.

It was a picture of you and Daryl, and Daryl was grinning at you and your head was thrown back while you laughed, in your tattered and bloody wedding dress and Daryl's vest. Daryl was spotted with blood and gore the same as you, and he had his crossbow held loose in one hand and the other hand around your waist. You had your gun in one hand and your machete in the other and your hair was up in that beautiful, complicated braid Maggie had done for you. 

The two of you looked so damn happy and in love and hopeful, and your heart ached for that time. You wondered who had taken the picture, and if Merle had been carrying it around ever since then, because his tower had been the first thing destroyed when the Governor came back. There was no way he could have gotten it from there after everything, because the damn tank had blown his room away. 

"I miss you, Merle," you whispered, setting the picture down gently on the nightstand. You stood up with a sigh, and turned off the light before leaving the room. 

 

Daryl's arm was around you and his lips brushed the back of your neck as you lay in the dark, trying to sleep. He was asleep, his body curved around yours behind you, breathing in that slow deep rhythm of rest. You laid there with your head pillowed on his outstretched arm, running your fingers over the muscles and veins in his arm and his loosely opened hand as you worried about the next day and watched the shadows change on the wall. 

"Hey," his voice was a whisper, and you didn't know when he'd woken up. "What's wrong, woman?" 

"Sorry," you whispered back, rolling to face him. He shifted you closer to him, tucking your head to his chest. He ran a hand over your body absently, shoulder to hip and grunted at you. 

"Cain't sleep?" he asked, and you nodded against him. 

"Worried about tomorrow. What could go wrong." 

He grunted again. "Me too. Big thing." 

"Yeah," you agreed, and your hands were drifting over the bare skin of his side, tracing the scar from where he'd fallen on his own arrow, back on Hershel's farm. You slid your hand around to his back, gliding your fingers over the scars there, from his father, and over the planes of his back. He shivered a little at your touch, pressing his face down into your hair. 

You smiled a little at the reaction and kept going, counting the bumps along his spine with two fingers. He growled a little into your hair. 

"Tryin' to distract me, woman?" he asked, and you smirked. 

"Am I succeeding?" 

He mumbled something as you reached the waistband of his pants and followed it, around his side and starting to dip down across his stomach. He slid his hand from your hip and grabbed yours before you could. 

You tipped your head back, looking up toward where you could half-see the outline of his face. "What?" you whispered, and he propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at you. 

He traced your hand, slipping his fingers into yours and gripping hard. "I love ya," he whispered, his voice raw, and you let out a little sigh of your own as he shifted to press you down into the mattress and kiss you, hard. 

You slept deeply for the rest of the night. After. 

 

You rode in his lap in the RV, fingers in his hair, looking out the window. The mood was subdued inside, everyone feeling uncertain and worried about what you were about to do. Rick drove, of course, and he met your eyes when you rose reluctantly from Daryl's lap. 

"How far?" you asked him, leaning over his chair to look up the road. 

"Here," he answered, and eased to a stop, the two cars behind you following his lead. 

All three laid on the horns as you started out. 

"Aaron, Rosita, start here," Rick said, and the two of them nodded. "We'll peel off every quarter mile, meet back here in a couple of hours. See what we got." 

 

You and Daryl went together, no communication needed. Maggie stayed behind, with the vehicles and with Carol. Everyone else split off in pairs, into the woods. 

To look for walkers. 

You whistled to Daryl, nodding toward a sprawling cabin. You'd gone maybe a half a mile from the others, been gone for around an hour, and so far you hadn't seen any that would work. Daryl nodded, and followed you, covering your back as you made your way toward the wide open back door of the place. 

You cleared it easily- no one was there, living or not- and met back in the tiny kitchen with a sigh. "Nothing," you declared, and he grunted. 

"Yeah. Maybe we're too quiet?" he said, sounding confused and annoyed. 

"Maybe. Oh well. Cabinets?" 

He grunted, and you started opening doors. No supplies. 

"Dixon," you said after a minute, and he looked at you. "I love you," you said with a crooked smile, and his eyes softened as he stepped to your side and touched your face. 

"I love ya, woman," he answered. "It's gonna be ok. We got this." 

"Oh, I know that," you said, shrugging. "But what are our people going to look like tomorrow?" 

His eyes shifted away, troubled. "Yeah." 

 

"We'll watch the place for a while, try to get a feel for how many people are in there," Rick said to the group when you were all gathered back at the cars. "We like how it looks, we go in."

You were a large group, armed to the teeth and deadly. Rick, Michonne, Rosita, Carol, Sasha, Aaron, Maggie, Glenn, Heath, Gabriel, Tara, Abraham, Daryl, and you- all clustered together as you finalized plans. Jesus and Andy stood a little away, and Jesus was watching your group with an odd expression. 

You got the feeling he wasn't the biggest fan of this arrangement, but he was solidly on your side. He met your eye and gave you a faint smile. 

"We'll go in a couple hours before dawn. Everyone inside'll be sleeping. We don't like what we see, we head back, make a new plan," Rick continued. 

"They don't know who we are. We keep Jesus in the shadows," you said, and Rick nodded. Jesus behind him nodded too. "This is how we eat." 

"This is how we eat," Rick echoed. "We roll out at midnight. YN?" 

You slid from under Daryl's arm, giving him a pointed look and flicking your eyes over the group of your people. He scowled but nodded, and you hoped that meant he'd be trying to keep moral up and encourage these guys. None of you really wanted to be doing this, and it was hitting your volunteers pretty hard that they'd be taking lives soon. Most of them had never killed a living person, since that had typically fallen on you, Rick, Daryl, Merle, and Carol's shoulders. 

These people's lives were about to get harder, and you hated that it had to happen to them. But it did. 

 

"Why is Maggie here?" Carol asked as you and Rick came up beside her. You didn't look at her and she didn't look at you. 

"She's guarding the perimeter," Rick answered. 

"Yeah, but why is she here?" Carol insisted, and you looked at her now. 

"'Cause it's her choice," you snapped, and she glared at you. You glared back, and she finally looked away. 

"I'm gonna stay out there with her," she muttered. 

"This whole thing's a race to the armory. We need as many people inside as we can get," Rick said. 

"She shouldn't be out there alone. She shouldn't be out here in the first place," Carol insisted. 

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. "Whatever, Carol. Rick, just let her." 

Rick glanced at you and then away. "Ok," he said, and the two of you headed over to Jesus and Andy. 

"What have we got?" you asked, and Jesus pointed. 

"That one," he said, and you and Rick looked at the row of heads on the ground. 

"Yeah, that's it," you agreed, and Rick nodded. 

"Probably good we're doing this at night, though," Jesus said. 

"Something wrong with it?" Rick asked. 

"The nose. Gregory's is a different shape." 

You looked at it for a moment, then shrugged, scooped up the head by the hair, and hauled back and punched it a couple of times. "There. He objected to being killed." 

You tossed the head to a grinning Rick, who tucked it securely into a bag while Jesus smirked at you and Andy turned a little green. 

"Guess there's no reason to be subtle about it," Jesus said and you grinned at him. 

Andy stared between you and Rick, a weird look in his eyes. Rick stepped forward a little, putting himself between the two of you. 

"What?" Rick asked him, and you noticed the slight head tilt. 

Shit, Rick was holding on by a thread. 

Andy met Rick's gaze without flinching. "The Saviors? They're scary. But those pricks got nothing on you two." 

 

It worked flawlessly. The guards bought Andy's story, and when one of them went to get the Hilltop's man, you slid out of the darkness and dropped the other with a clean slice to the neck. Daryl caught him as he fell and put a machete in his head, all while Andy stared at the two of you with wild eyes. Your people scurried out of the darkness and hauled the body away, and you and Daryl melted back into the shadows. 

The other guard came out with the Hilltop guy, who looked rough but was alive and moving on his own- thank God. You came up behind the second guard and repeated the process, and Andy slapped a hand over his friends' mouth and hustled him into the vehicle while Rick grabbed the keys from the guard and tossed them to you and Daryl and your people swarmed out of the darkness and into the building. 

"Check the doors. Find the arsenal. We take them out," Rick breathed, and you were off.


	24. Even When It Costs You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
> cannon divergence

Rick took the first one as he slept, and you saw what it cost him as he did. He met your eyes as he flung blood from his knife and nodded, and you nodded back.   
This was going to hurt you, all of you, but you had to do it. No going back now. 

 

You'd cleared four rooms with Daryl, Rick, and Michonne, and your knife was bloody. You and Rick were the ones who went in, doing the killing, while Daryl and Michonne covered you and others down the hallways as long as they could. It wasn't a plan you'd formed, but more what had happened. 

You and Rick were in another room, bending over two more beds, when the alarm started blaring. 

"Shit, damn, fuck!" you muttered, exploding to your feet and sheathing your knife. All the stealth was over now, and it was time to go out, guns blazing. 

 

It was a bitch of a firefight, the four of you taking turns laying down cover and taking the lead, hauling ass through the building in a desperate search for the armory. You still had to do your damn jobs, and you'd always known it might go this way. 

In the end, Glenn and Heath found the armory, and you took out all of the Saviors. All of them. 

So you did your damn jobs, even when it cost you. 

 

You cleared the entire building, coming out the back entrance to a field full of cars and daylight. The sun had come up while you were working, and you hoped Carol and Maggie weren't too worried, out there watching the perimeter. 

Tara and Heath were heading out on a long distance run as soon as you were done here. You overheard Glenn trying to get Heath to take a few days, but Heath refused. You hugged Tara hard before they drove off, and she tipped you a lazy salute with her bow as she climbed into one of the Savior's vehicles that you'd found and they drove off. 

Daryl came to your side. "You alright, woman?" he asked quietly, and you looked at the knife you had clenched in your hand. 

It was still bloody, and you sighed. You looked back up into his worried eyes. "I'm ok, Dixon. You're ok; our people are ok; and we're gonna live." 

Then the motorcycle engine started roaring, and you were whipping around with Daryl, dropping your knife and grabbing for your gun. 

"Son of a bitch!" Daryl yelled, and he was running forward when gunshots made the guy crash, tackling the asshole to the ground. 

It was his bike, you realized. Fuck. 

It started raining as Daryl started beating the guy's face in. "Where'd you get the bike?" he yelled, and you and Rick reached his side at the same time. Rick pulled his gun and pulled the hammer back, his head tilted and his eyes- well, his eyes fierce. 

"Just do it! Like you did everyone else!" the guy screamed, struggling against Daryl's hold, and you put your foot on his head and pinned him down. 

"Lower your gun, prick," a voice came suddenly over a walkie talkie, and you were spinning, panning the area around you urgently. "You, with the Colt Python. All of you, lower your weapons right now." 

Yeah, none of you were doing that. Rick scooped up the radio from beside the guy as Daryl touched your back and all of your people followed your lead, scanning the trees around you. 

"Come on out. Let's talk," Rick said into the radio. 

"We're not coming out, but we will talk," the woman answered. "We've got a Carol and a Maggie. I'm thinking that's something you want to chat about." 

You met Rick's eyes as his jaw worked. 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

 

"Now, we're going to work this out right now, and it's going to go our way," the voice over the radio said coolly, and you kept your eyes on Rick, who looked fuckin' pissed. 

"Take him," he snarled, and Daryl and a wild-eyed Glenn had motorcycle asshole hauled to his feet and Daryl's gun to the back of his head in a heartbeat. "You can see we have one of yours," Rick said into the walkie. "We'll trade." 

That wouldn't work, and you knew it. Oh, they'll try to make the trade. There was little doubt of that. But they'd control the situation. 

The space between your shoulder blades itched with the knowledge that their eyes were on you. You needed to get into those trees, behind some cover, where you could slip away and try to find them. Maggie and Carol wouldn't have strayed far from where you'd left them, guarding your exit route, so you had a good idea where to go to start the search. If you could just slip away. 

"I'm listening." 

"First I want to talk to Maggie and Carol, make sure they're all right," Rick said. Long pause, then static and a click.

"Rick- it's Carol. I'm- I'm fine, but-" 

You and Daryl shot confused looks at each other. That was Carol's voice sure enough, but it didn't sound right at all. It wasn't her real voice and it wasn't her Serial Killer Susie voice either; it was something different. She sounded breathless and scared and so very not Carol. 

The radio crackled again. "Rick, it's Maggie. We're both ok. We'll figure thi-" 

That was Maggie, sounding calm and in control, and you relaxed a little. 

"You have your proof. Let's talk." 

"This is the deal right here. Let them go, you can have your guy back and live." 

"Two for one, that's not much of a trade." 

You cocked your head to the side, thinking things through. If there were any number of them, or if they were decently armed, you'd be dead. You were sitting ducks outside in the open like you were. "Rick, they don't have anything- weapons, people. This is their only option," you said rapidly, and Rick met your eyes with a hard look and a sharp nod. 

"You don't really have another choice, or you would've done something about it already," he said into the radio. 

Silence from the other end. You looked over at Glenn. "Hang in there. It's going to be ok," you told him softly, and he just looked at you with worried eyes. 

"Rick," you said softly, and he nodded. 

"Look, I know you're talking it over," he said into the radio. "It's a fair trade. Just come out, we do this, we all walk away. Do we have a deal?" 

"I'll get back to you," the voice came again, and you caught something in the tone, just a slight shift. 

"Rick, she's on the move," you said grimly, stepping to his side. "I'm heading to the woods." 

"Naw, too dangerous. If they haven't gone anywhere and you head for 'em, they'll shoot," Daryl objected. 

"They don't have the people. Do they, asshole?" you asked the guy, and he sneered at you. You sighed and rolled your eyes heavenward. 

"Ok, fine. I'll ask again, more nicely," you ground out from gritted teeth, and stepped closer. Your knife was in your hand in a flash, and you lashed out with it. The asshole cried out as you pulled your punch at the last possible second, knife point millimeters from his eye. 

"Where would they go?" you asked softly, staring at the guy. 

He just smirked. You nodded, and pulled your hand back like you were done. You patted his cheek gently, then shrugged. 

"Boys," you said casually, and God bless them, they picked up your play. Daryl and Glenn had the asshole by the arms, holding him still, and Daryl grabbed a fistful of the guy's hair and pulled his head up. You started to pace a little, flipping your knife around in your hand, and they guy followed your every move. 

"See, my friend, usually? We're actually pretty nice people. We try to help out the living, kill the dead- all that shit. But you've caught us on a bad day. We've just done something that's left a lot of us pretty fucked up, you know? I mean, killing people in their sleep? It's rough on a person," you said, shooting the guy an 'aw sucks' look. He glared at you and struggled against Daryl and Glenn's holds. You stopped pacing in front of him and held up your knife. "This? This is the knife I put through six or seven of your buddies' brains while they just laid there. That blood on the blade? It's theirs. And you have two of my friends. So if I have the stone cold balls to kill your people in their sleep, do you really think it's the best idea to kidnap my friends?" 

"Fuck you, bitch," the guy snarled, and you sighed. 

You didn't blink, didn't change your expression. You just casually flicked out your knife, drawing the blade across his cheek in a mirror of the scar on yours. He screamed, loud, and you smirked. 

"YN!" Rick said, shocked, taking a step toward you. Even Daryl was giving you troubled eyes. 

"Relax, guys," you said easily, sheathing your knife and stepping back from the asshole. "They're gone. You think if they were watching they wouldn't have made a move, fired a shot, gotten on the radio? We're good to go. Bet Dixon and I can follow their tracks." 

Daryl shoved the guy into Glenn's hold and grabbed your arm, pulling you away from the group with his jaw set. 

"What the hell, woman!" he yelled when you were about six steps away. 

Like that was going to be far enough for a Dixon discussion to be under wraps. 

"What?" you asked, and he threw his hands in the air. 

"You tryin' to get yourself killed?" 

"No, actually, I'm trying to save our people's goddamn lives!" you snapped. "Look, can you stow it and yell at me later? We need to get on their trail! Rick, I'm going; don't argue. Come with me or don't," you snapped at all of them, and headed for the woods. 

 

You found their trail easily, Daryl at your elbow looking murderous and everyone else cautiously behind you. You followed on foot to where they'd gotten in a car, and now it was going to be harder. 

Rick grabbed the radio. "Have you thought about it?"

"You weren't listening. I said I'd contact you." 

"Would it make a difference if I said I was sorry about that?" Rick asked, and you shot him a smirk. He'd been spending to much time with you. 

You had a map out and were looking it over with Jesus. He pointed to a building just up the road from where you were, and you gave him a look. 

"Why?" you asked. 

"What do you think?" came the voice over the radio. 

"I think we're gonna make the trade, so tell me where," Rick answered steadily, looking at the map with you. 

"We haven't agreed to that." 

"You will." 

"You know what? I'm not so sure. We'd be taking most of the risk, not getting much in the way of a reward." 

"It's the only place to put a safe house for about six miles in the direction the tracks lead," Jesus said lowly to you. "The only other options are here, here, and here, and they're in areas that are really overrun with the undead right now. It doesn't make sense." 

You nodded, considering. "What do you know about the place?" 

Jesus shrugged as Rick continued talking to the woman. Great. Going in blind then. 

 

You made it there, and Jesus was right. You'd found them, and when the woman came back on the radio ready to trade, Rick agreed to what she asked with no hesitation. It didn't matter, because you were going to kill them all anyway. 

When you got out of the car, you smelled it. Burning flesh. 

"Guys..." you said slowly, and Daryl gave you a grim look. 

Guns drawn, you headed for the doors, only to have them slide open before you got there and- 

"Maggie!" Glenn exclaimed as she stepped out, gun up. 

"You ok?" Daryl said, grabbing Carol's shoulder. "We got your trail. You start a fire?" 

"Yeah," Carol said, eyes glassy. You stayed back, observing. 

"Hey, you good?" Daryl asked, touching Carol's chin. She shook her head, and he pulled her into a hug and you felt your jaw go tight. 

"They're dead, they're all dead. The ones that took us. They're all dead," Maggie was saying, and you got a feeling she'd done some killing today. 

"Are you ok?" Glenn was asking her urgently, and he hugged her as she responded with something you didn't really understand. 

You stalked forward to where Rick and the asshole you'd cut were. "Your friends are dead," you informed the asshole. "No one's coming for you. So you might as well talk." 

"Let him burn," Daryl snarled from behind you, and you ground your teeth. 

Sure, it was fine for him to go all primal when Carol looked rough, but you cut one prisoner's cheek and he looks at you like you're insane. Fuck it. 

"I'm gonna ask you one last time," you said conversationally. "How'd you get the bike?" 

"We found it," the guy said softly.

"Like hell you did," Daryl snarled. 

"We found it," the guy repeated, more strongly. 

"Was Negan in that building last night or was he here?" Rick asked from beside you. 

Something passed over the guy's face, and your eyes narrowed as he straightened up and grinned a little at Rick. "Both. I'm Negan, shithead. There's a whole world of fun that we can talk about, so let's have a chat." 

You sighed, grabbed Rick's gun from his hand before he could say anything, and shot the guy in the head.


	25. Another Day, Another Thrilling Adventure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
> minor character death  
> cannon divergence

Days passed. Guards changed. The Monk practiced aikido and built an entire goddamn prison cell. By himself.

Not saying you didn't need it, just- whoa. 

Rick said when he asked him why, the Monk replied, "It'll give you some choices next time." 

 

Carol shacked up with Tobin, and something in you just- died. 

She hadn't looked you in the eyes since you'd shot the guy with Rick's gun, and the first time you'd seen her on Tobin's front porch, you'd thrown up in the bushes after running away. 

Sure, she had the right to move on. To live her life the way she wanted. It just felt like she'd cut all ties with the Dixon clan, and hadn't even had the guts to tell the two of you to your faces. Even Daryl had looked shocked and betrayed when you told him. 

Abraham had left Rosita, and she's handled it by hopping into bed with Spencer Monroe, something you'd thought was an incredibly bad idea on both their parts. Then Abraham had started shacking up with Sasha, and wow had you called that one months earlier, on the road. 

Daryl had his bike back, and that somehow just made what was missing seem worse. 

 

"Hey, YN?" a tentative voice asked, and you looked up from your place in the gazebo. Denise the doctor was standing there, and you smiled at her nervous expression. 

"What's up, Denise?" you asked cheerfully. She relaxed instantly and smiled back at you. 

"Well, I have a favor to ask. There's this place I remember where there might be some medical supplies. I want to check it out, but..." She trailed off and fidgeted. "I want to go myself, and I'd like Daryl and Rosita to go with me." 

You blinked. "Ok? So, why are you telling me?" 

"Well, you're his wife. I was kind of hoping, maybe, you'd broach the subject with him for me?" 

You laughed. "Denise, just got ask him. Or ask Rosita and she'll handle it. If they're who you want- and they're good choices, if you ask me- then go for it. Daryl will be happy to take you." 

She nodded, turning to go, and then turned back toward you. "Hey, so- I would ask you to go, but everyone needs you. Rick needs you around to handle things." 

You smiled at her. "That's sweet, Denise, but I'm not offended. And even if I were, it wouldn't matter. You saved Carl; you can have anything you want as far as I'm concerned!" 

 

Daryl came out to you a few hours later, looking irritated. "Hey, woman. You sick the doc on me?" 

You grinned. "She asked you to take her out there?" 

He glared at you. "You put 'er up to it?" 

"Nope. She came and asked me to ask you for her. I told her to do it yourself, and you'd be happy to," you told him cheerfully, shifting the notebook on your lap aside so you could stand up and stretch. He reached for you automatically, pulling you close to him, and you wound your arms around his neck as he scowled at you. 

"Shit. I ain't happy to, but she basically said she'd go out on 'er own and get herself killed if I don't go." 

You smirked at him. "Sorry, Dixon." 

"No, ya ain't," he growled, and you shrugged. 

"No, I'm not. You and I both know you want to get out there. I'm going out to hunt later, too, so you should go. Play with Rosita and the doctor, get some supplies, be a hero," you said with a smile, and kissed his nose. 

"I ain't no hero," he growled, and yanked you in for a hard, hot kiss. 

 

"Hey, Grimes!" you yelled to Carl, and he looked up from where he was bouncing a ball along the porch with a jerk. "Get your gear and get your ass down here!" 

He stood up and gave you a hard look. "Why?" 

You sighed and rolled your eyes. "Because. We're going out. I need a hunting buddy; come on." 

"Did you ask my dad?" he asked, slowly coming down the steps toward you. 

"Yeah, I did. He thinks it's a marvelous idea. Come on, Grimes, we need some adventure. We haven't had any bonding time lately. I miss you, kid," you told him honestly, flicking the brim of his hat. 

He started to smile, and nodded. "Ok. Sounds cool." 

 

The sunlight filtered through the trees and the world was quiet and peaceful. Carl wasn't as noiseless as you were out here, but he wasn't what you might call loud either. Kid had grown up in this world, moving through places like this to stay alive. 

He looked happy as well, more relaxed than you'd seen him in awhile. Across his back were three rabbits and two squirrels already, and you were hoping to find something bigger to take down soon. 

"Hey, kid. We need to talk," you said finally, stopping and leaning on a tree. He looked over at you and sighed. 

"I kinda figured this wasn't just about some rabbits," he muttered, scuffing the ground with his shoe. 

"No, not just about rabbits," you agreed. "But it is about spending some time with you. I miss you, kid, and you gave me a hell of a scare not that long ago. Feel like I've barely been able to talk to you since then." 

He glanced at you and then away, sighing. "Yeah. Sorry about the scare." 

You snorted. "Grimes, come on. Not like you asked for that. And it's my fault anyway." 

"How did you come to that conclusion?" Carl's voice was biting and sounded just like Rick, and you grinned, happy to hear the fire in it. The smile faded rapidly though, and you shrugged. 

"I killed Ron without making sure you were clear. I just went for it. And he shot you." 

"Yeah, he shot me. He did. Not you," Carl said angrily, and you looked at him in surprise. 

"Kid, what's going on in that head of yours? You aren't acting right. Not that I blame you. Hell, if anyone has a right, it's you. But you're acting like you're somehow less because of this, and that is the furthest thing from the truth," you told him seriously. 

He looked away and shrugged, mute. 

You sighed and pushed away from the tree. "You blame yourself?" 

He snorted. "I blame Ron, and you killed him. Asshole thought he could take on you and my dad. Should have known better." 

"Then what's bugging you, kid?" 

"Look at me!" Carl snapped, gesturing to the bandage around his head, and you were reminded of how young he actually was. 

You stepped closer to him and he tried to turn away, but you grabbed his shoulders. When he stopped struggling and dropped his head, you shifted your hands to either side of his face, forcing him to look at you. "I am, Grimes," you told him seriously. "Scars don't matter, kid. Think I don't have any?" 

"You have a kick-ass scar on your cheek. Makes you look badass," Carl sneered. "I'm missing my fucking eye." 

"You really think that doesn't make you look badass?" you teased, and you felt the muscles in his cheeks work under your palms as he tried not to smile. "This isn't my only scar, kid. I've got quite a few. None of them as bad as yours, maybe, but scars don't make the man." 

"You're a girl and I'm a kid," he muttered, and you dropped your hands from his face to his shoulders, raising your eyebrows at him in a mock glare. 

"I'm a woman, thank you very much, and you are a man. You haven't been a kid in a long time, Carl, and you know that. Look, it's a big deal. I'm not trying to say it isn't. I'm just saying, you? Are one badass son of a bitch, and I need you to remember that when it's hard." You didn't give him time to respond; just pulled him into a tight hug instead. 

He felt stiff at first, but then his arms came around you and he held on in return. You heard him sniff a little and closed your eyes for a minute as you hugged him. When he pulled away, you let him, and your own eyes were damp. 

"I was afraid we'd lost you, kid," you whispered to him when he looked at you with concern. "I caught you when you passed out. I caught you, and your dad scooped you up and just took off- Michonne and I were taking on the walkers. We were all terrified. You dad and I held them back so Denise could do her thing. I just knew we had to keep them safe so she could save you." You shook your head, trying to clear away the churning fear that rose as you thought about it. "Try not to do that again, ok? Now come on, let's see what else we can bag for dinner." 

 

You came back in the afternoon, both of you laughing and smiling, feeling free. You never found any bigger game, but you'd added to your haul by several squirrels, two more rabbits, and one fat ass turkey that was going to be a hilarious story later, after the literal pain in your ass from the fall eased.

The two of you were just inside the gate, cutting up and joking about Carl's truly abysmal aim with your bow- which to be fair to him, had been crap even before he was short an eye- and generally delaying going home when the gate opened and Daryl's truck came flying in, Abraham and Rosita looking grim in the bed. 

"What the hell?" you whispered as Daryl blew past you toward the infirmary. 

You looked at Carl grimly. "Get your dad. Now." 

He nodded and took off, and you followed Daryl's truck. 

 

The doctor was dead; Eugene was shot- luckily it was just a graze, but still. He and Abraham had found a machine shop and he was talking about manufacturing bullets, but then he'd been kidnapped by more of the Saviors. 

You hadn't done your jobs after all. 

Then Denise had been shot by Dwight, the asshole Daryl had tried to help, and there'd been a firefight as the Saviors tried to kidnap your people and get inside the walls. Everyone had escaped- except Denise- but so had most of the Saviors and Dwight. 

You looked at Rick grimly, and the two of you got to work to brace for an attack. There was no time for you to talk to Daryl, and you were desperately worried by the look on his face. 

 

 

You found him later, after you and Rick had filled in Maggie and the others and dealt with as much as you could. He was shoveling dirt onto the doctor's grave, and you watched from afar as he paused, pulled a small bottle from his pocket, and downed the contents. 

Shit. 

Something cold coiled in your stomach, but you squared your shoulders and walked over to him anyway. 

"Hey, Dixon," you said softly, and he glanced at you and kept shoveling, not saying a word. You nodded and grabbed the second shovel, stabbed into the ground beside the pile of dirt he was working on. You started shoveling alongside him, and just waited. 

It took about five minutes, but you held your tongue and worked, and finally, he stopped. He dropped the shovel and reached one hand for you, a tiny movement that he ended almost as it began. You stabbed your shovel into the ground and moved to him, wrapping your arms around him as he stood there, staring at the ground. 

He held on tight, putting his face into your neck, just holding you. You ran your hand over his back and up into his hair, trying to say what you wanted to say without speaking a word. 

"He shot her with my damn bow," he said finally, pulling back from you just a little. "Bastard that I helped came back and killed the doctor with my bow." 

"I know," you said softly. "Doesn't make it your fault." 

"I should have killed him!" 

"Maybe," you agreed. "But you wouldn't be you if you did. He makes his own choices just as you make yours, and he chose to kill Denise. Not you." 

He snorted. "Feels like my choice got her killed." 

"I know," you whispered, touching his cheek. "But it didn't. How many more of those little bottles do you have?" 

He looked guilty. "None. Promise. Only had the one." 

You nodded and kissed him gently. "Come on, Dixon. We need to finish up here." You stepped back and grabbed your shovel, and he followed after watching you for a moment. 

"It won't be like Beth," he said quietly. "Sorry." 

"I know. Don't be, Dixon. Just talk to me," you told him, and he nodded.


	26. When the Shit Hits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
> cannon divergence  
> hint of smut

It'd been two days. You and Maggie were gearing up for an attack. Rick looked at you like you were crazy, but you'd been here before. You knew what it could be like, and like hell were you going through it again. 

Daryl wasn't doing very well. He was trying, you could see it, but he was angry and distant. Something was going to break soon, and you wanted to be as prepared as you could. 

 

Of course, you weren't. You were asleep, in the bed he'd pressed you into and made desperate love to you in just a few hours before, still tangled naked in the sheets, when the roar of his bike woke you up. 

"Son of a bitch!" you muttered as you shot upright. 

You pulled on pants and your gun belt, then snatched his flannel shirt from the hallway, buttoning it closed as you headed out the door, not even bothering with shoes. Just clothes to cover you, weapons, and out you ran, because if Daryl was sneaking out after sex, Daryl was basically saying goodbye while he went to do something stupid. You ran full out for the gate, muttering all the way, and arrived just in time to see him roaring out and Maggie, Glenn, and Michonne heading toward the gate as well. 

"Where the fuck is he going?" Glenn asked you with a snarl and you shot him a look. 

"If I knew that, do you think I'd be here without any damn shoes on? I was naked in bed two minutes ago, asshole," you snapped, so done with the world right then that you didn't care. 

"We have to try to stop him before he does something stupid," Michonne said, and you sighed. 

"I can't go. I'm needed here. And besides, if he wanted to listen to me, he'd have fucking talked to me instead of sneaking out while I was asleep," you muttered angrily. 

So you stood there with Maggie and watched as Glenn, Michonne, and Rosita drove away after him. 

Looks like you might be the last fucking Dixon standing after all. 

 

You were at Rick's house, sitting at his counter with a glass of water in hand and filling him in on what had happened when Tobin knocked at his door. He handed him a piece of paper, and Rick took it. He started to read, then just muttered 'fuck'. 

"What is it?" you asked sharply. 

"Carol's gone," he said, and you turned and punched the wall. Rick looked agonized. 

"Go," you told him. "I'll hold down the fucking fort while you're gone. Someone has to find her before she gets herself killed." 

You went with him to the gate, where Sasha and Abraham updated. 

"I took over at twelve and I was on till six. I never saw anything," Sasha said grimly. 

"Front's been quiet since the others left," Abraham said. 

You were looking out the gate. "One of the cars added yesterday is missing. She's got a car, the one from between the houses." 

"You can barely see between the houses from up top, especially at night," Abraham chimed in, and you groaned. 

"The note, can I see it?" Morgan asked, and Rick handed it to him. 

"She must have left during the shift change," you told Rick, and he sighed. 

Morgan turned and walked off, saying he was going to go find her. "Wait," Rick called. "Tell Carl I'll be back soon. No one else leaves!" he snapped, and you glared at him. 

"Don't tell me what to do, Cowboy," you snapped. "Don't you think if I was going to leave, I'd have gone after my damn husband? Go. I've got this," you finished, all the fight draining out of you. Rick put a hand on your shoulder for a moment, and then he and the Monk were gone. 

What a fucking morning. 

 

"Everyone stays ready for a fight," you told Abraham, Sasha, and Tobin grimly. "Do not let your guard down. Shit is going to hit the fan, and it's going to do it soon." 

"Where are you going?" Big Red asked as you started to walk away. 

"Home for a minute; get dressed properly. Then to tell Carl that his dad's gone. Then I'll be back and on the goddamn wall all day."

 

Rick came back as the sun set, and he was the first. You'd been on the wall for an entire day, snarling at everyone except Carl, who came to stand with you as much as he could. 

You got the feeling people kept asking him to. 

There was no sign of Daryl, or Glenn and Michonne and Rosita, and you were getting more and more worried as the day went on. There was something desperately wrong out there, and you were trapped behind the wall. Damn it. 

Abraham had stuck through your moodiness, and you respected Big Red for it. Not a lot of people were capable of hanging with you for an entire day when you were in full angry bitch mode. He pulled open the gate and Rick's car drove through, but Rick hopped out alone. What the fuck? No Carol, and now no Monk either. 

"Morgan's still out there looking," Rick said as you leaned over the guard perch. "Is Michonne here?" 

"Michonne, Daryl, Glenn, Rosita- they're all still out there," you called, and Rick nodded. He and Big Red stood at the gate, looking out and talking softly. 

"Now, I think I'm that much more ready to tear the world a brand-new asshole," Abraham declared, and you smirked a little. So things with Sasha were going well then. 

Rick clapped Abraham on the shoulder and climbed up to the perch with you. He stood in silence for a minute, then slid an arm around your shoulders and pulled you in. 

"Any second now," he whispered, and you tipped your head against his shoulder, feeling the tightly wound anger that had kept you moving all day fade a little. Rick got you, got that fear for your loved ones was what drove you in times like this. 

"Yeah. Any second now," you agreed. 

 

Sure, any second now something else would goddamn well go wrong. And of course, it did. The two of you were still there, watching the road, when Enid started screaming about Maggie and needing help. 

You stood by the RV, Maggie already inside it, and waited. Rick came out with packed bags, and Sasha and Abraham walked up. 

"Any change?" Sasha asked. You shook your head. 

"She's getting worse." 

"We're going," Abraham said, and you nodded. Good. He needed more hands. 

There'd been an argument you'd already lost about you going. Rick had said no, said that if all three of you went, Alexandria would be completely without it's leadership. You'd asked what the hell he thought had happened when you'd all gone out on your government-sanctioned murder spree, the wording of which had not done you any favors. 

But hey, you were holding on to a pretty slippery piece of sanity, so Rick would just have to fucking deal with the truth. 

He'd fired back that that was the lesson you were all learning from, now wasn't it? And the Dixon-Grimes grudgefest had really gotten into swing then. Carl'd had to step in, telling both of you to stop screaming at each other because Maggie could hear you and so could all of the people you were trying to lead. 

Then the sneaky little bastard had turned to you and asked, quietly and seriously, if you would please stay there, because he, Carl, wanted you to. Needed you to. 

How the hell were you going to say no to that? 

So you were fucking staying. Goddamn it. 

Carl was in the armory, getting them guns. Rick had gotten the supplies, and now he had Sasha and Abraham as backup. Eugene was going because he needed to talk bullet manufacture with Rick, and 23 miles from here to the Hilltop was going to be plenty for that. When Aaron came up, you gestured him in too. 

Rick could just damn well deal with it. 

"We have twenty four hour shifts. We have weapons in the rolling carts, and some we have cached. I've got this place, Rick. Promise. Just- get her there, and get all of you back here," you whispered raggedly, arms wrapped around yourself as Rick poured gas into the RV. 

Everyone you loved- everyone- was leaving. 

Daryl and the others still hadn't come back. Carol was missing. Merle was dead. Now Rick and Carl and Maggie and Abraham and Sasha and Eugene and Aaron were leaving too, and you were left, the last Dixon standing, to guard the home fire. 

You'd never wanted to be the one holding the gates, and yet there wasn't really a choice. Someone had to. 

"I'm coming back, YN. We all are. Maggie and the baby will be fine, Daryl will get over his temper tantrum, and everyone will be back, safe and sound. See you soon, ok?" Rick said, holding you by the shoulders and looking in your eyes. He kissed your forehead and let you go, patting your back as he walked away. "Carl!" he yelled, and Carl came around the corner with a bagful of guns. 

He held up one hand to his dad and came over to you. "Be careful?" he said seriously, and you snorted, dashing away the tears on your cheeks. 

"That's my line, Grimes," you said, and he hugged you. You held on tightly, and then watched as the rest of your world drove off, leaving you behind. 

 

They were gone way too long. 

You stood over the gate all that day, most of that night- coming down for a few hours in the early morning to sleep when you couldn't keep your eyes open anymore- and you were back when the sun came up, bloody on the horizon. 

No one came back. 

You were starting to think they weren't going to. 

Then they did, and that was almost worse.


	27. Negan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
> cannon divergence  
> major character death

The RV was covered in blood and handprints and missing the windshield. 

That was your first clue that something was horribly, awfully, wrong. 

Your second was when Rick wouldn't meet your eyes as he got out of the driver's side, and when the others staggered out and they wouldn't either. Carl came out last, and he walked over to you immediately, and grabbed you in a hug. 

You held him, feeling the faint tremor that ran through him and watching as the others walked away. 

Maggie, Glenn, Sasha, Abraham, and Daryl were all missing. Rick strode away and Michonne followed with a glance back at Carl in your arms, and Eugene followed Rosita in the direction of the armory. Aaron walked away slowly, his head down, and collapsed against Eric when Eric came running. 

"Carl?" you whispered. "What happened?" 

"Not here," Carl said, pulling away from you with a sigh. "At home. Come on, let's go." 

Holy fuck, what had happened? 

 

Your heart was racing, your chest pounding, and your lungs felt tight. You stood in Rick's kitchen, facing him across the island you'd faced him across a thousand times before, but this was different. He wouldn't meet your eyes. There was blood on his face, and his pupils were huge, and he wouldn't meet your eyes. 

Silence reigned, as it had since you'd followed Carl in and he'd muttered that he'd be right back and went to check on Judith. You could see him now, in the video monitor, holding his sister to him and crying as he rocked her. 

"Rick," you finally spoke, gripping the back of a chair so hard you weren't sure which you were going to break- the chair or your hands. 

He jerked as your voice broke the silence, and he looked at you as if seeing you for the first time. 

"Rick, what's going on? What happened?" you asked, fear making your voice shake. 

"They- he- it's- it's Negan," Rick said, his voice rough and raw and utterly broken, somehow, as his eyes moved away from you and jumped around the room. He shoved a shaking hand through his hair as your breath caught. 

"I thought we killed Negan," you said slowly, and he shook his head once, a jerky denial. 

"We didn't. He- he found us. Cut us off at every turn, so we couldn't- we couldn't get through. Eugene- Eugene took the RV, and we carried her to try to slip through the woods, but-" He broke off and pressed his hand to his lips. You moved around the island, grabbing Rick's hand and pulling on it until he followed you, unresistant. 

You shoved him down onto one of the chairs and tugged until you had his coat off, then knelt to start on his boots. "What happened?" you asked, reaching deep beyond the fear to keep your voice steady. 

You'd never seen Rick like this, and you hoped to God you'd never see him like it again. 

"They- they had us surrounded. Forced us to our knees, and then-" he broke off again as you pulled his second shoe off and you heard heavy steps on the stairs. 

"YN! Dad, seriously?" Carl's voice was pissed, and you stood up and walked around to the sink as he came in the room and shot Rick a venom-filled look. "Why the hell are you taking his shoes off? Dad, haven't you told her anything yet?" 

"Look at your dad, Carl," you said softly, wetting down a towel and coming back around. "He's in shock, and he's traumatized all to hell. Trust me, I'm familiar," you added with a gallows smile, setting to work cleaning the blood off Rick's face. 

"He needs to get the fuck over it!" Carl snapped, and Rick's eyes focused on the two of you again. 

"Language, Carl," he muttered, and took the towel from your hand. "YN, you need- you need to sit down." 

Carl glared and pulled out a chair for you, standing beside you as Rick set the towel on the counter and reached for your hands. 

"What the hell happened out there, guys?" you asked when neither of them said anything. "You're scaring the shit out of me." 

"It was Negan," Carl said. "He put us all in a circle, made a big speech, and then said he had to kill one of us." 

Your heart stopped and you clutched Rick's hand. "Rick, Daryl-" 

"No. No, Daryl's alive. He's alive," Rick said, gripping back and shaking his head at you. "He- he killed Abraham. And-" 

Your mind whirled, filling with Big Red's face and voice- 

\- There's a vast ocean of shit out there that you people don't know shit about. Mother dick of a situation, that's what. When you were, uh, pourin' the Bisquick, were you lookin' to make pancakes? Am I to understand that this admitted pistol of a woman here is in charge of this expedition? Pardon me if this is a question as will get me balls deep in some shit- 

Wait, and? 

"And?" you whispered, and Rick looked away, that broken look back in his eyes. 

"He- he killed- he killed Glenn, too," Rick finally said, and the world spun and tilted on it's axis. 

Someone was saying no, over and over and over again, and you realized it was you when Carl grabbed your shoulders and pulled you into a hug. 

No, Glenn wasn't dead. He wasn't. He couldn't be, not after- not after the balloons. The balloons. 

"YN. YN, come on, I need you to listen. That's not all, YN, there's more, and you have to know. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, but you need to know. Dad, come on, she has to," Carl was saying, his hands on your face as he spoke, forcing you to look at him. 

"There's more?" you whispered, and Carl dropped his hands from your face and looked away, jaw working in a way that looked just like Rick's. 

"He- he took Daryl with him. As a prisoner. We work for Negan now. Half our stuff is theres," Rick said, voice flat and hard and unflinching. 

He didn't sound like your Rick, who should have been gearing up for war. 

"Why aren't we getting ready to fight?" you asked, and the eerie calm had settled over you. The calm that only came when you were pushed to the limit and there was no time for you to break, no time to feel any of the pain you were feeling. It'd happened with the Governor, and now here it was again, with the news that you were going to war. 

Because that's what killing Glenn and Abraham and kidnapping Daryl was; it was Negan declaring war on you. 

"We can't fight him. He has Daryl. And-" 

You looked up sharply. "And? And who, Rick? What else is there?" 

Rick looked away from you and didn't speak, and you swung your eyes to Carl when he put a hand on your shoulder. 

"YN, Merle's alive. And he's with Negan." 

What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the actual fuck? 

 

Carl got you into their guest room, shoved you into the bathroom to shower, and brought a couple changes of clothes and your weapons from your house. He informed you that you'd be staying with them for a couple days at the least, because he didn't want you alone. You didn't argue, even if you had no intention of following instructions.

Michonne had checked on you and filled in some of the details, like about the line you saw drawn on Carl's arm but hadn't wanted to ask him about. She was the one who told you Merle was working as the Negan prick's man, and how he hadn't batted an eye when Abraham and Glenn were beaten to death. 

She told you that Daryl had been covered in blood in the lineup, looking like he'd been shot, and that he'd taken a swing at Negan for taunting Rosita. She told you that Merle hadn't said anything while Daryl was being threatened; that Glenn had been killed to punish them for Daryl taking a swing. 

She told you about Negan putting Rick in the RV and taking him somewhere and that they'd been gone for hours, and when they came back, Rick was bloody and scared and holding the ax. And that Negan had put guns to their heads and tried to get Rick to chop Carl's arm off on that line, or he'd kill them all. 

Carl'd told his dad to do it, and Rick almost had, but Negan had stopped him. You knew that's when Rick had broken, because the number one rule was nobody fucks with Carl. And Negan had fucked with Carl and Rick, until Rick had been almost forced to do the unthinkable in order to keep his son- and everyone else- alive. 

"He tried to get Merle to bring Carl to him, and Merle refused. Said he'd kill or do whatever Negan wanted, but he wouldn't be a part of hurting a kid. Negan punched him and tossed him aside, but later- he told him he respected men who had principles," Michonne had said, and you'd given her a wild look. 

"But how did he-? How was he-?" 

"Negan said his people found Merle passed out and surrounded by walkers, and brought him in. Said they'd worked out a deal, but Merle still had to prove his loyalty. The way he was talking, it sounds like Merle hates us," Michonne had whispered, and you'd shaken your head. 

"It sounds like he's trying to protect us, as best he can," you'd said harshly. 

 

Negan was coming back in a week, and Rick wasn't ready to do anything but roll over and give them what they wanted. 

You spent the night in Rick's guest room, as you'd been asked, and slipped out before the dawn to go back to your own house. You needed to be in your own house, in your own space. 

You needed to be alone, so you could figure out what had just happened. 

Five days later, you saw Michonne leave from where you were curled in a heap on the porch, and you didn't try to stop her. 

Then Francine came at a dead run, face pale, and screamed for Rick, and you were off the porch as fast as Rick came out of his house. Francine said something about the gate, and Rick looked at you and told you to stay put. 

Yeah, like that was going to fucking happen. 

You were at his heels in a heartbeat, knowing without a doubt that you were about to meet the man who'd taken your husband and killed your friends. 

You were about to meet Negan.


	28. Easy Peasy Lemon Squeezy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
> cannon divergence

It was Spencer standing at the gate, and you paused to let Rick approach, taking the moment to look at the asshole standing on the other side. 

Leather jacket, spotless and slick; one biker's glove on the hand that carried the goddamn bat he called Lucille, no signs of blood or brains on her; dark hair slicked back with a salt-and-pepper beard, and the smile- the amused-crazy smile. 

"Well, hello, there," he said to Rick when Rick reached the gate and stared through it at Negan. He bent a little at the knees as he said it, dipping backward with his amusement. As Rick just stared, the smile drained from his face, and you saw the deadly underneath it. 

"Do not make me have to ask," the man said, and Rick started for the gate. 

"You said a week. You're early." 

Negan was grinning again as the gate opened and he stepped forward, eyes locked on Rick's. "I missed you," he answered Rick. 

A walker growled, and Negan looked over his shoulder. "Oh, Rick, come on out here. Watch this. Callin' it!" 

Negan strolled over to the walker, set himself into a batters stance, and swung the bat hard, taking the walker out with one blow. He bent at the knees and tilted backward again as he laughed, and fixed his eyes on Rick. "Easy peasy, lemon squeezy!" he exclaimed. "All right, everybody. Let's get started. Big day!" 

Rick turned, and something caught his eye that you couldn't see beyond the wall. His shoulders slumped slightly, and he shot a quick look at you and away again. 

Oh shit. That wasn't good. 

"Hey Rick, you see that? What I just did? That is some service! I mean, we almost get turned away at the gate. 'Who is that guy, anyway?' Do I get mad? Do I throw a fit? Do I bash some ginger's dome in? Nope. I just take care of one of these dead pricks that could have killed one of yall." He gave a mock bow. "Service. Hold this," he commanded, handing the bat to Rick. 

To your dismay, Cowboy took it, and he turned as Negan strolled inside. Rick met your eyes and shook his head, jaw working, clearly wanting you to go, but you stood your ground as Negan started to look around. 

"Hot diggety dog!" Negan exclaimed. "This place is magnificent! An embarrassment of riches, as they say." He looked around some more, and gave a whistle and wave of his hand, and his people started pouring in behind him. 

Your heart stuttered as Merle strolled in, not looking around, but with some awful looking bruising on his face and a gun on his back. 

You couldn't believe he was alive. You'd been sure he was dead, twice, and now here he was, and he couldn't have been any further away. 

Then his eyes landed on you and his step hitched, but he covered it smoothly as Negan snapped his fingers and called his name. "Right here, boss man," he drawled, trying to ignore you. 

"Where is our pack mule for the day? I have a feelin' we're going to need him," Negan said, and there was something in his eyes as he looked at Merle that warned you- 

You were right. Some asshole with a burned face who you figured must have been Dwight came stepping into view, and he was pushing Daryl around with a hand on his arm. 

If you'd thought seeing Merle was bad, seeing Daryl was worse, and you could tell by the look on Merle's face that he agreed. And there was nothing he could do. Daryl was beaten up and dressed in some gross sweats that made you go cold and then flush hot. 

You knew what being kidnapped and being seen next in clothes that weren't yours meant. You'd been there before yourself. 

When Dwight grabbed Daryl and jerked at his arm, Daryl flinched. He flinched away from the asshole's touch, but didn't make a sound or make a move, and that stabbed into you. 

But then Dwight turned, gesturing to someone else behind him, and you saw Daryl's wings on the asshole's back, and you were moving before you knew you were. Daryl's eyes snapped to you and then away, and Merle's did too as Rick took a rapid step in your direction and blocked you with his hand on your shoulder. 

"No! No, YN, no. You have to get out of here, before you get his attention. He'll use you against them and you know it," Rick was whispering, but it was too late. 

"Well, well, well," your eyes went to Negan as he strolled up behind Rick. "What do you have here, Rick the Prick? Hey, darlin'. I'm Negan." 

"I know," you said simply, and he flashed you a smile. 

"I like her already, Rick. Just who the hell are you, if you don't mind my saying, sweetheart?" 

You shrugged. "I don't mind. I'm YN." 

"Well, YN, I am delighted to meet you. May I just say, you are-" he broke off, gesturing at you as he looked you up and down. "You are smokin' hot, darlin'. I can see why Rick was trying to hide you from me." He stepped closer and put his finger under your chin, tilting your head so the light caught the scar on your cheek. 

You held up a hand as soon as he touched you, holding back Rick, Merle, and Daryl, all of whom had started forward when he touched you. He let go of your chin but stayed right there close to you, looking down into your eyes. 

"You know, normally I like my women to have some softness to them, but you are all steel, aren't you? That scar is badass, and I get the feeling you know how to handle every one of the weapons I can see on you. Am I right?" he asked, that grin spreading, and you smiled back at him. 

"Better than you can imagine, sugar," you said softly, and he chuckled. 

"Oh, I do like you. Now, I am going to make you an offer that I do not make lightly, sweetheart. I would love to take you to bed with me, wherever you'd like for that to happen and just as often as you'd like for it to happen, darlin'. What do you-" he broke off and looked behind him as the scuffle broke out, and you flung your hand back up again, stepping away from him and glaring at Daryl as he struggled against the asshole wearing his vest. 

Rick was standing still but had a murderous look in his eyes, and Merle had already taken two steps forward when you held up your hand. 

Son of a bitch, this display was sure to tell Negan who you were, if he didn't already have it figured out. 

"Huh. Interesting. Dwight, control my prisoner, would you?" Negan drawled from just behind you, and you didn't flinch. "Now, based on the reactions of all three of my favorite people back there, you are one mighty important woman for me to know. So- who the hell are you again?" he whispered in your ear as he walked slowly around you, and you turned to look at him. 

"YN," you told him again, and smiled. "YN Dixon." 

"Oh! Well, that is an interesting development!" Negan declared, and a low chuckle ran through his people. He turned and looked from Daryl to Merle, both of who had jaws tight and looked ready to spring forward and try to take Negan out with their bare hands. Daryl was held in Dwight's grip, Dwight with an arm around his throat and his other hand yanking Daryl's head back by the hair. Someone else had a gun to Daryl's head, and you flashed Daryl a quick smile, just to let him know that you were fine. 

You could handle this. 

Negan turned back to you. "Sister?" he asked slowly, and you shook your head and held up your hand, where your wedding ring glinted. 

"Wife," you said simply, and he laughed again. 

"No way. Now, I know Daryl over there is a hothead, but Merle? Merle's cool as a cucumber. Merle's wife, maybe? He didn't even react to me killin' your friends the way he's reacting to my being so damn close to you I can smell your shampoo," Negan said, shooting a look Merle's way. 

You smiled faintly up at him. "Wrong again, sugar," you teased. 

"Are you shittin' me? You're Daryl's wife? Well, I will be god damned. You are too good for him, darlin'. Way out of his league." Negan shook his head, looking you over again admiringly. You just waited, smiling back at him. 

"Rick! Come here," Negan called, and Rick was at your side in an instant. 

"You alright?" he asked you, voice low and urgent, and Negan just tisked. 

"What kind of an asshole do you take me for? She's perfectly fine. The lady and I were just having a conversation," he said, seeming genuinely annoyed. 

You put a hand on Rick's arm. "He's right, I'm fine. Don't worry." 

You looked past him to Daryl. "You either, Daryl," you called, and Negan was in your face. 

"Now, darlin', I know he's your husband and that makes this an emotional moment for you, but you do not look at him, or talk to him, and I don't make Rick here chop anything off of him. Understood?" 

You jerked your eyes away from Daryl's instantly, and met Negan's icy smile. You nodded once. "Can I speak to my brother in law? The last news I had of him, I was told he was dead. I-" your voice broke, and you didn't try to stop it. You were beginning to think you understood this Negan, and the vulnerability would probably help you. 

He looked between you and Merle. "Well, that is tragic. And you asked so nicely, except, I didn't hear a please in there." 

"Please," you whispered, ducking your head and then looking up at him. "I thought he was dead. I just want to see if he's- if he's real." 

"Awww, darlin'. Sure thing. You can even give 'im a hug if you want, since you asked so nicely," Negan said with a smirk, and you didn't have to be told twice. 

You ran to Merle and threw yourself into his arms, and he held you just as tightly. You were crying real tears and you didn't care what Negan would think of it. You'd thought Merle was dead, but here he was, in just as much danger as the rest of you. While you held on, he whispered to you rapidly. 

"I'll keep him safe as I can, I promise." 

Then he set you down and wiped clumsily at the tears on your cheeks, speaking so he could be heard by Negan. "Come on now, little sister. Ya know ol' Merle cain't be killed by nothin'." 

You laughed a little and gripped his hand for a moment. "I missed you, asshole. I thought I told you not to scare me like that again after last time." 

He laughed. "Well, ya know. Shit happens." 

You nodded. "Yeah, it does happen." Then you hauled back and punched him in the jaw, hard. The Saviors started forward as his head snapped back, and you heard Negan's startled 'oh!' from behind you. 

Merle held up a hand and the Saviors dropped back as he laughed again. "We square now, little sister?" he asked, and you nodded. "Good. I missed you too, sweetheart. Now go talk to the boss man, and you make sure you give him whatever he asks for, aight?" He touched your cheek again and you leaned into his touch for a minute, and turned back to the grinning Negan and Rick gripping the wire covered bat tightly in one hand.


	29. Understanding the New Order

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> references to past rape/non con  
> thinly veiled and completely not at all veiled sexual innuendo

"Now Rick, that- that is how you do business with me," Negan was telling Rick when you walked back over to him. "She asked nicely, and see? We got that touching reunion right there. You could learn a thing or two from her." 

"He already has," you said, a smile you didn't feel on your lips. You'd been doing a lot of fake-smiling these days, and you added a coyness that made your stomach churn to it now, knowing it would catch the asshole's attention. 

You were pretty sure you were starting to understand this guy, just from your short interaction with him so far and from what the ones who'd been in the line up had told you over the last few days. You'd been holding fairly regular counseling sessions with those who had come back, partly to try to help them- because God knew they all needed it, and who else would?- and partly for this very reason: to get into the asshole's head, learn as much as you could about him before he came. 

So you could kill him. 

He'd taken Daryl as a hostage, and was clearly trying to break him. You knew the signs, and you also knew he was closer to it than Negan probably even realized. Daryl Dixon was the toughest bastard in the world, but even the toughest have their breaking point, and you could see it in his eyes. It wasn't the physical torture that would get to him, though the bruises on his eyes and the look of bone-deep exhaustion showed that was definitely happening. It was the psychological stuff; the guilt and shame you could see all over him as you stole quick glances when Negan wasn't looking. He was beating himself up over Abraham and Glenn, and he was going to break himself for Negan if you and Merle couldn't do something soon. 

Unfortunately, you had no idea what that something might be. 

But Negan hadn't killed Daryl for punching him; had instead taken him back with him. He wanted Daryl on his side, because he respected strength and guts and conviction, even as he demanded submission. It was a tricky line to walk, but hell- you'd walked worse. And you were pretty sure all you'd get if you fell off the line was a blow or a painful death, and you could handle that. 

Despite his lingering looks and open offer of sex- and hell, the boner you could tell he was sporting even now- you knew in a heartbeat you weren't at risk like you'd been with the Governor. Besides the fact that he hadn't touched you except the hand on your chin, and the genuine annoyance at Rick asking if you were ok, there just wasn't that threat to him, to his words or his actions. He'd made an offer, and while you hadn't refused, you also hadn't said yes. The offer still stood, but he wasn't pushing it. 

"Oh, really?" he said now, turning that not-quite-right smile on you as he drew out 'really' into several syllables. "Just what has he learned from you, sweetheart? Because I had to teach him a very, very severe lesson not that long ago, and he looks like he's starting to forget it already." 

You shrugged. "He hasn't forgotten. None of us have. The problem is, you didn't find the right button to push with Rick. See that's the thing about people, we all have our breaking point," you said conversationally, reaching out and touching Rick's shoulder. It was comfort for both of you and a request that he play along all at once, and the way he rolled his shoulder slightly under your hand told you he got it. Thank God for whatever bonds had been forged that linked the two of you like this. 

"Oh?" Negan asked, glancing between you and Rick and smirking. 

"Rick doesn't do well with threats or ultimatums, something I imagine the two of you have in common," you said with a flirty little laugh, and Negan laughed with you as you continued. "However, he tends to respond well to... suggestion. Make him think it's his idea, and you get what you want. Usually with no fuss," you added with a shrug. 

It was an outright lie, but Negan didn't need to know that. You were trying something, shifting the focus from Rick- who was gripping that damn bat just a little too hard, and had the vacant look in his eyes that spelled trouble- to you, and maybe, just maybe, getting Negan to lay off the threats of bodily harm a little. 

Negan was smirking at you now. "I believe I have found your right hand man, Rick the Prick. I like you, sweetheart. Why don't you come with me while my boy Rick here shows me around town?" 

Perfect. If Rick was left alone with this asshole, somebody was dying today, and there were too many civilians and unknowns for that to happen right now.

"Whatever you want, sugar," you said with a smile. 

Negan stepped over closer to Rick and leaned in, right in his face, while watching Merle and Daryl as he spoke. "She really should not say things like that to me right now, Ricky-boy. I would love to tell her exactly what I want!" 

You saw the tremble in Rick's body as he clenched his jaw, and you shook your head slightly. 

Hold it together, Cowboy. I've got this if you do.

"She's a married woman," he muttered, and Negan did that back-bending laugh. 

"That does not mean I can't think about it, son!" he exclaimed, looking at you and biting his lower lip. You took a risk and rolled your eyes at him. He just grinned harder, patting Rick's face. "She's got some serious balls on her. Not like some little bitch I know. Ok! Let's get this show on the road. See what kind of goodies you got in the cupboard." 

Negan started walking further into Alexandria, and you shot a 'don't do anything stupid, asshole' look at Merle, whose face didn't change from that barely suppressed rage as you stepped to Rick's side. 

"We put aside half the supplies," Rick started, but Negan interrupted. 

"No, Rick. No. Care to tell him why that shit will not fly with me, darlin'?" he asked with a wink at you. 

You sighed. "Because we don't decide what you take. We aren't in charge here; you are." 

Negan licked his lower lip and cut his eyes behind you. "Daryl, Daryl. How did you end up with her? She is so beyond your league. Bingo, sweetheart. Rick, I'm beginning to think I should just do all the talking with her, here. But that would let you get off just a little too easy. Arat! Merle!" 

"You heard the man!" a woman with a big gun and a clear chip on her shoulder snapped. "Move out!" 

The Saviors began to filter into Alexandria, and you could only hope and pray that the word had been passed not to resist them. 

 

When Dwight called Rosita's name you looked over, hatred stirring in your soul at the sight of Daryl's vest on his back and crossbow in his hands. Honestly, you might have hated him more than you did Negan, just for that. You started over there, but Negan tisked and you had to turn your attention back to him. 

"My people are just going to search your houses. Keep the party moving," he said with a wink at Rick, and you forced the smile back onto your face. "Hope you don't try to hide anything. Merle! Bring my pack mule!" 

Merle grabbed Daryl's arm, and you could see his lips move as he said something in a low voice. Negan turned and offered you his arm. 

"Now, darlin', please do not think I am oblivious to the way you and Rick the Prick here can talk to each other without using any damn words. I am impressed, and a little jealous. I still have to be very clear and intentional when talking to my own right-hand man. However, I do not think I want to give you the opportunity to have any whispered conversations behind my back, so why don't you walk with me now? Besides, it would be a bad idea for you to get any ideas about talkin' to my prisoner back there, and I do not want to have to do anything about that." 

You slid your hand around his arm, tucking your fingers into his elbow and smiling up at him. "Well, I wouldn't want to refuse such a kind offer, would I?" you murmured, but you allowed a flash of irritation to show in your eyes and tone. Rick flinched on Negan's other side as he saw it, but Negan just chuckled. 

"You do know how to keep a man on his toes, darlin'. Not gonna lie, you get me real hot," Negan informed you, and you lifted an eyebrow with a smirk. That had him giving you a considering look as he started strolling along. 

 

 

"Now, you see this? This is the kind of thing that just tickles my balls," he said, tucking the arm you held lightly into his side and gesturing with his other hand. Two of the Saviors hauled an easy chair from a house. Francine caught your eye and gave you a questioning look, and you shook your head and smiled at her. 

Do not cross them, you were trying to say, and you wondered how far you could push Negan on the whole communication issue. 

"A little cooperation, and everything is pleasant as punch! You see, we really are reasonable people once you get to know us. And I would love for you to get to know us a little bit more, if you know what I mean," he added to you with a grin. You smiled back but didn't respond, and he looked back at Rick on his other side. 

Daryl and Merle trailed behind you, and you didn't look. But it cost you. 

"Negan," you said after a moment of silent walking. He looked down at you. 

"Yes, princess?" he asked, and you couldn't help the face you made. "No? Don't like princess? You're right, sweetheart, it does not fit you. You are a warrior," he said with a smile. 

You just shook your head and smoothed out your expression. "You can call me whatever you want, sugar," you said easily, and he grinned. "I had a question. Just so I understand the ground rules. Wouldn't want to cause any problems accidentally." 

Negan shot a look at Rick. "See, Ricky-boy? That is someone who understands the new order. Ask away, sweetheart," he said grandly. 

"I understand why you're, shall we say hesitant? To allow Rick and I to speak, or even-" your voice hitched, but you pressed on, ignoring it, "Daryl and I. Is it all right if Rick or I offer reassurances to our people as we go along? You are early, and they might be nervous because of that," you said, asking plainly because honesty was something he would respect. 

He chuckled. "I like a woman that thinks ahead and speaks her mind. You may speak to them, as long as my people can hear what you say. No whispering!" he admonished, and you nodded your understanding. He patted your hand on his arm and chuckled again. 

"Negan!" One of his men came up, a video camera in his hand, and your blood ran cold. 

Deanna's interviews. Fuck.


	30. All in All, You'd Rather Be In Terminus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> thinly and not so thinly veiled sexual innuendo

You hoped Merle hadn't told any outright lies to Negan that he might get caught in now. 

"Something you should see," the new guy said, and Negan reached out to take the camera. He shot you a look as he did. 

"Well, well, well. What do we have here? Got my fingers crossed for a little freaky-deaky," he said, wiggling his eyebrows at Merle, who cracked a grin that looked fake to everyone. 

"What do you think, sweetheart? You like a little freaky stuff too, don't you?" Negan asked, and you saw the way his eyes shifted to Daryl as he spoke. 

You just shrugged. "Depends on the mood, I guess. But I don't think that's what you'll find on there." 

"Well, let's just see, shall we? Watch together, if you know what I mean." The eyebrow wiggle was a bit much, but you supposed it wasn't for your benefit anyway. He was doing his level best to bait someone, and he'd already figured out it wouldn't be you. 

He might be an asshole, but Negan sure wasn't an idiot. He was probably hoping to get Daryl or Rick to crack, but he underestimated you and them. He didn't know your history, so he didn't know that they knew what you could handle. 

He opened the camera and Rick was sitting in Deanna's chair, his eyes looking almost as wild as he did now, and that massive beard on his face. You actually smiled when you saw him on there, like it was a reminder of a better time. 

Hell, you'd been half-starved and separated from Daryl at the time, but it was, still, a better time than now. 

Shit, the day you wished you were back at Terminus was the day you really were well and truly fucked.

"Jee-hee-sus!" Negan whistled. "Is that you, Rick, underneath all that man bush? Shee-ut! I would not have messed with that guy!" 

You could tell by his tone that he meant it, and you snorted a little. He glanced down at you and raised an eyebrow. "Probably smart of you. That Rick was an animal," you offered. "He ripped a guy's throat out with his teeth once." 

Negan whistled. "Damn. Why'd he do that?" 

You met Negan's eyes. "He threatened his son. And Michonne and Merle and Daryl and me. But it was the threat to Carl that did it."

"Ah yes, I have seen what happens when someone tries to hurt the future serial killer," Negan murmured, considering you for a moment. "And what about you, sweetheart? Did you just stand there and wait to be rescued?" 

Merle's raucous laugh rang out from behind you, and you and Negan both turned to look at him. 

"Something funny, Merle?" Negan asked. 

"The idea of little sister there sittin' around and waitin' to be rescued, that's what. She weren't waiting on nothin', bossman," Merle said, giving you a proud look. 

"Oh? What did she do?" Negan asked, looking back down at you. You met his eyes and didn't let your expression change as Merle answered. 

"Killed the man tryin' to grope her, then football tackled the sick fuck tryin' to rape the boy. Slit his throat and practically bathed in the man's blood." 

"Well, holy shit. Balls of steel!" Negan exclaimed, staring at you with wide eyes. "Honey, I hope to God there's a video of you on here, too." 

You shrugged noncommittally. Negan toggled the controls, fast forwarding through Rick's interview, and yours was the next that appeared. You were smiling at the camera, head tilted to the side ever so slightly and a calculating look in your eyes. You were streaked and smeared with blood and dirt and armed to the teeth, but you looked relaxed and in charge. 

Negan pressed play, and yours and Deanna's voices filled the air. 

"I told Rick already, your group is the first we've considered bringing in in a long time."

"You shouldn't, you know."

"Really? That's what he told me. Why not?"

"People are dangerous. Especially the strong. Only the strong are left out there."

"He said something similar. I asked him if he was telling me not to let his people in, or if he was already looking after the place. He said he'd killed people. You say you've killed someone. I'd say it was more than one."

Your chuckle on camera was low and throaty, and Negan whistled at it, whispering 'damn' under his breath as he stared at your face on the screen. 

"That'd be correct, Congresswoman," your image said, and the smug scorn on your face was stronger than you remembered it being at the time. Negan paused the video as you settled back into the chair, your lips quirked and something gleaming out of your eyes. 

He looked at you slowly, and no one said anything around you. 

"Excuse the fuck out of me, darlin', but I am glad as hell that you are not the one my boys encountered first. If I were not so goddamn attracted to you, I would be killing you right were you stand, because you- that you? You scare the ever lovin' shit outta me." 

You flashed him a smile, cool but friendly. "Who me? I'm harmless, really," you said, fluttering your lashes, and you saw Merle relax in the corner of your eye as Negan let out that back-bending laugh. 

He eyed you for a moment longer, then clicked the camera on and turned it on Rick. "Ricky boy here isn't that guy anymore, is he? Nope!" He turned the camera to himself and made a face at it before panning it over to include you on his arm. "I really gotta shave this shit. I guess it's a good thing I've got your man as my favorite toy, and your brother in law on my team, isn't it? Because you, darlin'- you, I firmly believe are exactly the same." 

He bent and mock-whispered in your ear as he looked into the camera. "I'd love to see you on this on this screen with me under some other, more enjoyable circumstances." Behind him, in the image, you saw Daryl's glare. Negan did too, and he laughed as he pulled the camera down and clicked it off. 

 

 

"Hey, whatever happened to that sick girl?" he asked suddenly, looking around. "That seemed like a hell of a stressful night for her. The way she was carryin' on, she was married to number two, right?" 

"His name was Glenn," you snapped as Rick looked away from Negan. Negan's eyes shot back to you, his eyebrows up. 

"Shit, darlin'. That was spicier than anything I've heard out of your mouth. Chinese boy a friend of yours?" 

You leveled him with a glare, forgetting to walk the line for a moment as your stomach rolled. "Korean. And yes, yes he was." 

"Well then, baby doll, I am sorry. You should know, he did not have to die. It could have just been Red, but your husband back there? He took a damn swing at me. I couldn't let that shit fly. You should be thanking me for not killing him, instead of glaring me down for killing the- what did you say again? Korean guy," Negan's eyes were hard even as he stressed 'Korean', and you swallowed, tamping down the anger boiling in you.

Maybe he could get under your skin after all. 

You breathed through your nose and closed your eyes for a moment. When you opened them again, Negan was smirking at you, and you smiled. "I apologize for my temper," you said, tone much softer. "Glenn was someone I've known for a very long time, since I joined Rick's group. Thank you-" you had to stop when you growled out the words, and Negan's grin this time was appreciative. 

Bastard knew how angry you were, knew what a show you were putting on for him, and he loved it. He was soaking it up, getting off on the power trip of making you swallow your pride and thank him for not killing Daryl. 

"Thank you," you said again, tone slightly better, "for not killing Daryl. He has temper problems." 

"You are very welcome, darlin'," Negan practically purred, and patted your hand before walking you over to Rick. Rick's head was dropped, but he raised his eyes and there was hate echoing in them. 

Negan stopped and gripped your hand as he looked at Rick, the threat clear. "Careful. Careful how you're lookin' at me, Rick," he said slowly, and Rick's eyes flicked to yours instantly. You merely raised an eyebrow at him. 

Get control, Cowboy. Get control. 

Negan chuckled. "At it again, you two, with the silent conversations. Lucky for you, I'm feeling generous! Widows, especially ones that look like that... They are special. I love 'em. Right after their husbands go, they are just empty inside. But usually not for long." He sang the last part and you kept your eyes locked on Rick's, begging him not to snap. 

Maggie wasn't here. She wasn't here, and you were, and you could take all this in a way she couldn't. You'd been protecting Maggie from this kind of shit for years, and this? Hell, this was a lot easier than the Governor, all things considered. So Rick needed to just keep his goddamn self under control. 

"And since Daryl's wife here is being surprisingly... hesitant to take my offer-" he looked at you and you lifted an eyebrow back, and he chuckled suggestively. "I'd take you over her in a heartbeat, baby, don't you worry. Where is she?" he asked Rick abruptly. 

"Do you care to pay your respects?" Father Gabriel's soft voice came out of nowhere, and Negan spun around, pulling you with him. 

"Ho-ly crap!" he snapped, and you heard the genuine surprise in his voice. "You are creepy as shit, sneakin' up on me, wearing that collar with that freaky-ass smile. Jesus!" He looked at you. "Do you see this guy?" 

You eyed Gabriel, taking in the dirt on his pants leg and thinking over his words. He was implying Maggie was dead, and that was some quick fucking thinking on his part. Kept her safe and kept the Hilltop from scrutiny. 

"I call him Father Disturbing," you answered Negan absently, and Negan barked out a laugh. 

"He is disturbing! Shit!" 

"My apologies," Gabriel said a little stiffly. "I'm Father Gabriel." 

"I like her name better," Negan told Gabriel, and turned to Rick. "She didn't make it?" 

You heard the slight sadness in his voice, and knew it was genuine. The man was crazy as fuck, but he seemed to have a set of rules. When he'd talked about Glenn's death, he'd been trying to get a rise out of everyone present, but the flash of anger when he'd said that Glenn didn't have to die? Real. The disappointed edge to his tone right now, asking about Maggie? Real. The pleased respect when you asked clarification on talking to your people? Real. 

He valued life, you realized abruptly. He killed to make a point, and he even enjoyed it, but he actually valued people. Maybe he saw them as just tools for his own use, pawns to his advantage, but he didn't want to watch the world burn. 

He actually saw himself and his people as what he called them- Saviors. 

You could work with that.


	31. Giant Man-Sized Balls of Steel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon-typical violence  
> cannon divergence  
> thinly and not at all thinly veiled sexual innuendo

"Damn tragedy," Negan said softly, still holding your hand in the crook of his arm as he looked at the three fresh and unmarked graves. "That's what this is. Well, this must really suck for you guys." 

Daryl stood behind him, Merle holding onto his elbow, and you tried not to see the pain in his eyes. You might have known this was all a ruse, to keep Maggie and the baby safe, but Daryl? He didn't know that, and there was no way for you to communicate it to him. Hell, you were taking a big risk just looking at him for more than a moment, and you forced your eyes away, meeting Merle's. 

He barely narrowed his eyes at you and you blinked at him, and he gave the faintest of smiles. 

If you and Rick could speak without words, you and one of the Dixon boys? You were practically telepathic. 

Negan looked down at you and you pulled your attention back to him. "Number on? That was on me. No choice there. Lessons had to be learned. But number two? That didn't need to happen." 

You struggled to control your face as your fingers on his arm flexed against your will. He smiled slightly, and you knew he was speaking for Daryl's- 

Well, benefit wasn't really the right word. He was letting you know he knew how to push Daryl's buttons, letting you know he could manipulate and read people just as easily as you could. The two of you were in a complicated little tapdance, and the stakes were everyone's lives and sanity, and he was telling you he knew it and was playing rough. 

"Daryl there, he forced my hand. Probably put her right on her back, huh? Damn. I was gonna ask her to come back with me," he shook his head at you. "You're still my favorite, sweetheart, don't worry. But still, she was- she was pretty hot too. Friend of yours? You got a look I think I've seen somewhere before." 

You softened your tight jaw instantly and he rumbled a low laugh. "Maggie was my friend too, yes," you whispered to him, letting some of your real pain filter into your eyes. 

"I know you probably will not believe this, but I am sorry," he said to you now, and turned to Rick before you could respond. "Now I know what you're thinkin' over here, Ricky. How could I have a shot, guy that just bashed her husband's head in? You'd be surprised. Boy, people, they-" 

He was cut off by gunshots in the distance. You stiffened and gripped his arm as you looked at Rick. The laughter drained from Negan's face and he reached up to grab your hand in his while glaring at Rick. Then he was walking, and you stumbled a step in order to keep up. 

Shit, shit, shit, this was not good. 

 

 

It came from the infirmary, and your heart stopped when you saw it was Carl with a gun in his hand. 

Fucking hell! 

"Put some back, or the next one goes in you," Carl said to the Savior he held at gunpoint, and Negan let out an ominous laugh from the door that Carl didn't hear. 

"Kid, what do you think happens next?" the Savior sneered. 

"You die," Carl said bluntly, and you knew you had to act fast. Rick beat you to it.

"Carl, put it down," Rick ordered as he stepped to Carl's side, and the kid shook his head. 

"No! He's taking all our medicine! They said only half our stuff."

"Of course," Negan said softly, walking you into the room and to Carl's side. "Oh-ho. Really, kid?" 

Carl looked over without shifting his aim on the gun an inch, and his eye lingered on you just a little too long. Negan saw it and tightened his hand over yours. Carl saw your slight head shake, but ignored you. 

Fuck it all. 

"You should go," he said, glaring at Negan. "Before you find out how dangerous we all are." 

Goddamn it, Grimes! 

Negan jerked back a little and looked at you. "Did you hear that? Pardon me, young man. Excuse the shit out of my goddamn French, but-" He looked back at Carl, and you saw the delight on his face and relaxed just a fraction. 

"Did you just... threaten me?" he finished, leaning closer to Carl. "Look, I get threatening Davey here, but I can't have it. Not him, not me." 

"Carl, just put it down!" Rick broke in urgently, and you turned to him with an annoyed face. 

"Don't be rude, Rick," you snapped, giving him a 'shut the hell up now and let us handle it' look. 

"Indeed, thank you, darlin'," Negan said, eyes never leaving Carl. "Don't be rude, Ricky. We are having a conversation here." 

Carl tilted his head and narrowed his eye and Negan laughed. "Oh, now I know where I've seen that look you gave me before! Are you sure you and Rick the Prick weren't shackin' up before you married my pack mule there? This kid has got a your balls and Rick's head tilt, right enough. Oh, I like it. Now where were we? Oh yeah. His giant, man-sized balls. That he sure didn't get from his dad, so they must have come from you, darlin'," he said, looking over to you with a grin. 

You stared back, and he waited a beat. "Am I supposed to be responding to that, sugar? It's a little hard to tell," you said finally, and he grinned at you. 

"I wouldn't mind if you did, but you just proved my point! This kid have your blood, or just your balls of steel, baby?" Negan asked. 

"She's not my mom," Carl snapped. "But she is my friend. Don't fucking talk to her like she's a piece of meat." 

"Oh, I do like you, kid, I really do. And I do not want to have to go hard on proving a point here. Trust me, you will not like it and neither will she or Ricky-dicky over there. But you do not threaten us, no sir. I said half your shit, and half? Is what I say it is. I'm serious. Do you want me to prove how serious? Again?" 

You cleared your throat and tapped your fingers against Negan's arm, politely requesting his attention without interrupting. He glanced at you and then leveled Rick with a look. 

"You really need to learn a thing or two from this girl, Ricky-dicky. That is how you ask for someone's attention while they are havin' a discussion. Yes, darlin'? What can I do to- I mean, for- you?" he said with a suggestive smirk, looking back to you. 

"May I speak to Carl for a moment?" you asked demurely, and Negan laughed again. 

"Please, go right ahead. Convince the kid that he does not want to keep going down the path he is on, man-size balls of steel or no." 

You didn't try to move from Negan's arm, just looked at Carl. "Grimes, put it down. Please." 

Carl looked at you and everything he was feeling moved across his face- anger, hatred, shame, fear. You held his eyes and tried to tell him that this wasn't rolling over, it was self preservation. You had to give right now, to stay alive to fight later. 

"Grimes," you whispered, and finally he dropped the gun. Glaring at Negan, he handed it to you. 

Negan tisked and took the gun from your hand, and you didn't resist. 

"Thank you," you told Carl, and then looked at Negan. "And thank you for letting me try," you added, and Carl scowled as Negan smiled into your eyes. 

"You are very welcome. I believe the children are our future, including the little serial killer here. Resolving this issue with no bloodshed makes my little heart merry. However," he raised his eyebrows and looked over at Rick. "This whole thing reminds me that you have a lot of guns. There's all the guns you took from my outpost when you wasted all my people with a shit-ton of your own guns, and I'm bettin' there's even more. Which adds up to an absolute ass-load of guns, and as this little emotional outburst has made crystal clear..." He trailed off and looked at Carl and then at you before going back to Rick. "I can't allow that." 

Carl looked at you wildly and you shook your head. Negan felt the movement and gave you an amused smile. 

"Are you talking to the younger Mr. Grimes now, sweetheart?" he asked. 

"You said we could reassure our people," you said with a shrug. "Carl's about as much mine as any of them get," you added boldly, looking Negan in the eye and telling him without words that Carl was the line in the sand, the hill you'd defy him on. 

And possibly die on, but you would burn that bridge if you came to it. You were hoping Negan had enough of an interest in and respect for both you and Carl to take the message well. He stared at you for a minute before laughing softly. 

"What is it about that little serial killer that inspires such... bold reactions from you people?" he asked, and you chose to take it as a genuine question. 

"I met Carl when he was just a kid. Maybe eight or ten? Hell, I don't even know how old I am anymore, much less him. I've watched him grow up, taught him, fought with him, cried with and for him, gone without food to keep him alive and fed when we were all starving. He's as much my child as Rick's, and I don't think Rick will have a problem with me claiming that. Carl's saved my ass more times than I can count and I've saved his. You have rules, codes you follow and expect everyone under you to follow? Well, we have a rule, too, among my people: Don't fuck with Carl. It's the only rule we all agree on, and the only one that matters," you said, letting your walk-the-line face drop and the real you show for a moment, and Negan whistled. 

"You are one scary bitch, sweetheart. I'm not gonna lie, my dick is so hard after that little speech." He leaned close to you and locked eyes with someone you couldn't see. "I would love to hear more about your rules, and I would very, very much enjoy telling you some of mine." 

Well that wasn't the response you were aiming for, but you'd take what you could get. 

"But that would be a conversation I would not want any other ears around for, if you know what I mean," Negan continued, and looked back at Rick. "They're all mine now. So tell me, Rick- where are my guns?" 

 

You risked a glance at Merle and Daryl as Negan led you along behind Rick. Merle met your eyes steadily, giving you a quick tug of a smile to show he was ok, but Daryl was staring at the ground. Several of the Saviors followed along behind all of you and you turned your head rapidly to see Negan watching you. 

"I saw you looking at him, darlin'. You've been a damn useful part of this experience, helping keep everything on very civil terms, so I'll forgive a glance or two. I get it; I am putting him through a lot- both of them, really," Negan's voice was pitched low, this a conversation only for the two of you, not for Rick's or anyone else's benefit, and he'd dropped just a little of the showboating attitude. "It's for their own good, you know. I want to work with them both, but I have to know they are loyal to me, no matter goddamn what. Merle has some serious potential, but I think he and I are going to need to have another little chat about the fact that he did not say word one to me about you at all. However, Daryl- Daryl needs a little more to break him. I don't want him fractured beyond all recognition, so I will not be forcing the issue with you, sweetheart. But please, at least try to act like you're afraid of getting caught. No need to be so goddamn obvious about it when you check in on them." 

Then Rick was at the door to the storeroom, and he'd stopped as the garage door whirred slowly open. Negan drew you to a stop at Rick's side and Rick shot you a glance. You just smiled and Negan chuckled. 

Olivia held her inventory book and was waiting for you when the door opened. She glanced from Negan to you to Rick. "I... figured you were coming," she said slowly. 

"Show him where the guns are, Olivia," Rick said, voice devoid of any emotion. 

He was still carrying the fucking bat. 

"The armory's inside," she said, turning on her heel. 

Negan patted your hand and pushed you on ahead of him, to walk between him and Rick since the shelves were too close together for two to walk side by side comfortably. "You run the show in here?" Negan asked Olivia. 

"I- I just keep track of it all, the rations, the guns." 

"Good. Smart," he answered, and she looked at you. 

"We had a system in place before Rick and YN took over, but she improved on it a lot," Olivia said and you gave her a stop-talking face. 

"Indeed. Well, she does have many, many quality attributes, doesn't she?" Negan responded with a grin. "Don't let me stop you, sweetheart," he added, gesturing Olivia on. "Take her out, boys. Show 'em the goods." 

Several of the Saviors followed Olivia's stiff back as she turned to lead the way, with Arat deliberately shoving into you as she went. Negan saw it and his eyes darkened for a moment, but he just stepped to your side and held up a hand to keep you and Rick from following them. 

"Wait, wait, wait. While they're at it, I just want to point out to you that I'm not taking a scrap of your food. Slim pickings in here. And, darlin', I cannot be the only one to notice that you got a fat lady in charge of keeping track of rations, can I? I do feel better knowing that you did not give her the job, but rather inherited her in it. And I would love to hear the story of how the two of you 'took over' this place, because," he chuckled, "I bet it is good. Either way, you starve to death? I don't get shit. So for now, you get to keep all the food. How 'bout that?" 

You knew what he was after when he grinned at Rick and raised his eyebrows. Rick was staring beyond him at the door, so you stepped in and played your damn role. 

"Thank you-" you started, but Negan held up a hand and cut you off, eyes on Rick's face. 

"Forgive me, darlin', but I have heard your thanks, and while I appreciate the shit out of how polite you are, I think Ricky-dicky here needs to do some of the talking. He is, after all, your leader." Negan stressed the word leader and imbued it with the kind of scorn you enjoyed injecting into words to get a rise out of people, and you winced at how it sounded directed at one of yours. No wonder your tactics tended to be so successful; they sucked ass to be on the receiving end of. 

"What do you want me to say?" Rick asked finally, and Negan's smile fell from his face again. 

"I don't know, Rick. How about a thank you?" he growled, getting in Rick's face. "You think that might be in order? Or is that too much to ask? YN here does it, and I've been rubbing her captive husband in her face all damn day long!" 

Rick shot a guilty glance to you before meeting Negan's eyes and saying nothing. 

Fuck it, Cowboy, this was not the time. It was not the time for Rick to go off fucking script. 

"I know we started off on the wrong foot, but what can I say? You forced my hand, Rick. But it's like I've been trying to tell you- I'm a very reasonable man as long as you cooperate. Just ask this fine ass woman over here, who I have let sneak glances at my pack mule and her brother in law and not said shit even when I know she has been using them to talk to all of you about your behavior. Why? Because she is cooperating like a goddamn dream, and every situation which has been hers to handle has gone down smooth as old whiskey. So let me ask you a question, Rick. Are you cooperating?" Negan licked his lips and winked at you as Rick dropped his head and closed his eyes, fighting for control. 

Rick lifted his head finally. "What's it look like?" he asked softly, and you rolled your eyes heavenward, because even you could see it looked like he damn well wanted to swing the bat in his hands at Negan's head. 

"Oh-ho-ho, I know what it looks like," Negan said, getting close to Rick's face again. "But what I really want to know is if we're gonna find all the guns back there or if maybe you got a few just waitin' for their moment... Just like my Lucille." 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

Olivia had the location of nearly all the cataloged guns, but your teams had hidden some inside the walls in case of an attack, so that you and your people knew where they were but others wouldn't. You suddenly, honestly, weren't sure if they'd been collected in the days since Rick got back, and it wasn't like you'd marked your secret gun stashes on Olivia's map. 

You had a choice to make: speak up now and stay on Negan's good side, or wait to see if anything was missing that was inventoried and risk him thinking you were trying to get one over on him. You weren't sure which was the better option at first, but then you remembered your own dead drops in the woods. Those guns weren't on the inventory and none of them had been guns taken from the Savior outpost, so there was no way Negan and his people could know about them unless you'd been under observation for a lot longer than you thought you had been. 

"Negan," you spoke quietly, and he held up a hand without turning. 

"One moment, darlin', Rick and I are talking," he told you, and you didn't press. "I asked you something, Rick," he added softly, and Rick's jaw worked. 

"They're all in there, to the best of my knowledge," he answered. 

"I am counting on that, Rick. Now, what can I do for you, sweetheart? Do you have a different answer than Rick's?" he asked, and his eyes were still deadly when he looked at you. 

"I'm not sure," you said honestly. Rick's eyes went wide behind Negan and Negan's eyebrows rose. 

"Care to elaborate on that any?" he asked dryly. 

"Some teams in charge of defense stashed some of the guns in places where our people could find them but others couldn't," you said. Negan started to turn to look at Rick but you kept going. "They were put in place while Rick was gone, and I don't think I ever told him about it. I'm not sure if they were gathered up or not in the last few days, but I know where they're all hidden. I was in charge of security." 

Negan stepped closer and eyed you for a long moment before patting your cheek and nodding. "Thank you, sweetheart. Are these guns listed in the inventory the fat chick no doubt has?" 

You nodded and he chuckled, spreading his hands. "Then we should have no problem. If some of them are not accounted for, you can show us where to pick them up. Right?" 

"Right," you agreed.


	32. One Bad Day Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> past rape/non con  
> past domestic violence  
> sexual innuendo

"You know what today is, Ricky? Today is a banner day!" Negan declared. 

You were back on his arm, watching as the guns were emptied from the armory and loaded into one of the Savior's trucks. Merle was part of the supervisory team, but your heart was breaking as you watched Daryl hauling guns from inside to the truck, head down and without protest. He wouldn't even look at you, and you knew you would get in trouble for watching him this openly if you didn't stop soon. 

You couldn't help it. You didn't know when or if you'd see him again when these assholes drove away, and you knew that inevitable moment was getting close. 

"I think this little arrangement we have is gonna work out just fine. Hold up!" he said as Daryl walked by with another armload, leaning forward to snatch a pistol off the top of Daryl's load. "Let's see if you've been taking care of my guns!" 

He cocked the gun and pointed it at Daryl's head, tracking Daryl as he walked back to the stairs. You tensed on his arm and Negan leaned over to you. 

"I told you not to be so goddamn obvious, sweetheart," he said with a wink, and Daryl looked at you then as he walked by, just a quick, brokenhearted glance. Negan fired, and you jumped, but he'd shifted his aim to a window over Rick's head. 

Your heart pounded and you glared at Negan, who just winked at you again. 

"Feels good," he said. "Sounds good. Oh, I do believe Lucille's gettin' a little jealous. Well ho-ly smokes! Look at this!" he exclaimed, trading the pistol for the rocket launcher one of his people brought up. "It was you guys that took out Little Timmy and the Dick Brigade? Oh, please tell me it was you, darlin'!" 

He gave you a hopeful look and you smirked but shook your head. "Sorry, sugar. I haven't been able to play with that particular toy," you said with a sigh, reaching out to stroke one finger down the launcher. 

"Mmm!" Negan said, biting his lip as he watched you. "Honey, do not fuck with me here. Well, I would like you to, but not like this. Look at you, Ricky boy, getting in your last licks. Man, I'm gonna have some fun with this!" 

"Please, I- I don't know for-" Olivia's pleading voice came from the stairs and you watched as Chip-on-her-shoulder Arat manhandled Olivia up them. 

Negan sighed and glared at his woman. "Arat, we don't do that. Unless they do something to deserve it." 

She glared back. "Yeah. We went through the inventory. Guns in the armory, guns they had around the walls. They're short." 

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck. 

"Did you find all of the hidden stashes?" you asked before you thought, mind racing. Arat glared at you, but Negan didn't turn his head or bat an eye in your direction, just lifted his brow at Arat when she didn't answer. 

She sighed. "Yeah, we did. Got them all. Still short. Glock 9 and a .22 Bobcat," she said, passing over the inventory notebook. Negan handed the rocket launcher to you and you took it automatically. 

You frowned, confused, as Negan opened the notebook and scanned it. Negan looked at your face for a moment and then swung his attention to Olivia and Rick.

"Is that true?" he asked Rick, who was starting to look panicked. 

"We had some people leave town, those guns probably went with them," Rick said rapidly, trying to defuse the situation as Negan shook your hand out of his arm and stepped over to Olivia. 

"So Olivia sucks at her job," Negan said. "Is that what you're saying?"

"No, no I'm not saying that-" Rick backpedaled, but Negan talked over him. 

"There should be a full accounting here, right? Top to bottom. Am I right?" 

"No," Olivia snapped. "I mean, yes. The inventory is correct." 

"Good. But not so good too," Negan declared, leaning into Olivia's space. "You see, what's in here? Isn't in there. You're two handguns short. Do you know where they are?" he asked with a grin. 

"No," she whispered, shaking her head. Negan sighed. 

"That's disappointing, Rick," he murmured. "I thought that we had an understanding. But this- well, this shows that someone's not on board, and I can't have that." 

"May I see the inventory notebook?" you asked suddenly, and Negan swung around to you. 

"Well, darlin', let me think on that. I'm just a little disappointed in you, too, come to think of it. You've been so very cooperative, and now this. I am inclined to give you, at least, another chance, especially with the way you're holding that rocket launcher, oh yes. However, Ricky-boy over there has had a few chances too many already today," Negan said, giving you a long slow once over as Daryl was shoved back to Merle's side. 

Negan turned back to Olivia. "I don't enjoy killing women. Men-- I can waste them all the live long. But at the end of the day, Olivia my dear, this was your responsibility." 

"We can work this out-" Rick started, and Negan spun on him. 

"Oh yes, we can. And I'm going to- right now. This was your job, and you screwed up," he said more softly, turning back to the whimpering Olivia. You ground your teeth as he continued. "Keeping track of guns? That shit is life and death."

You and Rick exchanged glances. Rick had pressed too many times; he was on thin goddamn ice with Negan. And you- you weren't sure how far you could go. But someone had to step in. 

Merle handled it, heaving a loud sigh. "I need a goddamn cigarette. Boss, whatcha thinkin'? Search the place again, kill whoever has it? Or should we give little sister and Rick the Prick here a chance to work some magic? I'll bet ya a weeks' rations she can find them for ya, no mess no fuss," he drawled, and Negan gave him a shrewd look. 

"Merle, shut the fuck up," he said mildly, and Merle did as he was told. "Do not try to manipulate me, my one-handed friend, because you do not have the skills for it. However, in your desperate attempt to save your 'little sister' here some heartache- I see right through you- you have raised one excellent point. I do have more resources at my disposal than just Lucille's powers of persuasion." 

Negan turned back around and sauntered over to where you stood, still holding the rocket launcher. He ran his eyes over the thing, cradled competently in your hands, and licked his lips slowly. "My god, you are sexy as hell. How do you keep it in your pants around her, Merle? Do not answer that with some bullshit about her being married like I imagine Ricky-dicky here would. Men like you and me only give a shit if she's married to us, am I right?" he asked, leering in Merle's direction. 

Merle didn't glance at you or at Daryl, just gave an unconvincing chuckle and shook his head without speaking. Negan watched him for a second and then let out a disappointed huff of air. 

"Well, anyway, darlin'," he said, turning back to you. "What do you propose we do about the situation we find ourselves in now?" 

 

You asked for a meeting in the church, to let you and Rick address everyone and ask them to give up the guns. Negan had chuckled, declared that reasonable, and agreed. You'd added that a certain amount of time be given after the fact for you to search before the Saviors did, in the event that no one came forward with them. 

Your reasoning, and Negan listened to it, was that whoever it was who had hidden them might be scared of retaliation from Negan, too scared to come forward and take the blame. And wouldn't Negan rather have the guns and everyone alive, building some rapport with the Alexandrians, instead of potentially having no guns and at least one person dead, if not more? 

So Rick had laid Lucille in the window of the church and given a speech. As expected, no one brought the guns forward and everyone questioned everything Rick said. You leaned against the wall quietly, watching faces as it happened. 

"Let me put this to all of you as clearly as I can," Rick had said. "I'm not in charge anymore. Negan is. Now who has the guns?" 

 

No one came forward, but Eugene pointed out that not everyone was there. You met Rick's eyes and mouthed 'Spencer'. He'd stolen food before; he'd probably stolen guns as well. Rick had nodded and strode toward the door, where Negan waited just outside. You followed, but Negan stepped into your path. 

"I think one of you is enough to go look, darlin'. You can come sit outside and keep me and Olivia company," he said with a smile, and you'd nodded once at Rick in agreement. 

So now you were seated on one side of Negan, Olivia on the other, with Merle and Daryl standing behind you. 

"Well, since we have some time on our hands, ladies," Negan began, "why don't we play ourselves a little game?" 

"What kind of game?" you asked him dryly, raising an eyebrow as he grinned. 

"The fun kind. A getting-to-know-you game. I will ask you some questions, and you will give me some answers. If you lie to me, because I know you very well might think to try, and I catch you lying to me, I cut something off one of the Dixon boys here that they might need in the future. What do you say, sweetheart?" 

"Do I have a choice, sugar?" you shot back, and he chuckled. 

"No, I do not believe you do. Ok. First question," he rubbed his hands together and leaned forward, Olivia temporarily forgotten as he fixed all his attention on you. "How the fuck did you land with Ricky-dicky and company?" 

Your smile was genuine, and you saw his reaction to it as it curved your lips softly. "Daryl stopped when he saw me walking on the side of the road back in Georgia, half-dead. He and Rick took me in, and I became part of their group. There were different people in it then, fewer of us in total, but with some faces that aren't- aren't around anymore," you finished sadly. 

Negan was nodding, hanging on your every word. "Very interesting. And Merle- was he with them? Was this while he still had his hand? Because that is a story I would very much like to hear." 

You shook your head. "No, Merle was gone when they found me. I didn't meet Merle until nearly a year later." 

"Please, elaborate," Negan said with what was supposed to be a charming smile. 

You glanced up at Merle and Negan chuckled. "No, no. No checking for collaboration. I want the story from you, unembelished and unedited." 

You sighed. "He kidnapped me, and Glenn and Maggie, and took us to the man he was with at the time, and asshole who called himself the Governor. We escaped, our group took down Woodbury, and in the process, Merle made his way back into the group." 

Negan waited, but you didn't continue. He scoffed after a moment. "Ok, that is not the whole story. What happened to turn Merle against the man he was working for? Because my man Merle there? His hatred for Rick is real. Or at least, it was. I'm uncertain of how much of what Merle told me was the honest-to-God truth, but that? That was some genuine hate for Ricky-boy." 

You ground your teeth. "It's personal," you snapped at Negan. 

He just lifted his eyebrows, waiting. 

Finally you sighed. "The Governor threatened to rape Maggie and I. I saw that he was going to make good on the threat, so I took it, to spare Maggie. When Merle found out, he tried to help us, especially after he learned I was Daryl's girl. The Governor did some fucked up shit, including pitting me and Daryl against Merle in death match in front of a bunch of civilians screaming for our blood. We got out; Merle came with us. Merle is a man of many levels, including extreme assholery and extreme heroism. Don't mistake who you have on your side, Negan. Don't take him for granted." 

Negan was staring as you told the story, and there was genuine rage in his eyes. "Well I will be goddamned. What happened to the man, the Governor?" he asked, without any of his usual theatrics. 

You glanced at Merle again, but looked back at Negan before he could say anything to you about it. "I killed him. We thought Daryl had, but he managed to escape alive. Came back and destroyed our home, killing someone we cared about, Maggie's father. In the battle, I slit his throat." You swallowed past the lump in your own throat as you remembered the smoke and the blood and the pain as you lost your baby. 

"Excellent," he whispered. "One thing I will not abide- I do not suffer any motherfucking pencil dick rapists to live, and the idea of you, sweetheart? Oh hell no. I'd be on my way to Georgia right the fucking damn now filled with some extreme disappointment in your people if you told me he had lived. Good on you, darlin', for getting your own. Damn." 

He sat back, shaking his head in admiration, and suddenly Daryl spoke up. He hadn't said a word the entire day, and the sound of his voice, low and rough and broken, had tears slipping down your cheeks before there was a damn thing you could do about it. 

"Should hear what she did to her ex before all this shit started." 

"Excuse the fuck outta you, asshole, but who gave you the right to goddamn speak?" Negan snarled, head whipping to Daryl. When Daryl didn't say anything else, just flinched and looked away, Negan turned back to you after a moment. "But he does leave me with my next question in our little game. What, pray tell, happened to your ex? Honey, I have got to know." He grinned at you and you shot a glare at Daryl, banking on Negan's good mood. 

"You have one chance to speak and that's what you say?" you snarled at your husband, then looked back as Negan's eyebrows shot into his hairline. "I know, I know- don't talk to him or look at him. Sorry, this just isn't a subject I'm entirely happy about." You let out a frustrated sigh as Negan just gestured for you to go on. 

"I stabbed him with a pair of kitchen scissors when the outbreak was just rumors. I don't know if he's really dead or not, but I assume after all this time, he is. I just assume everyone is dead. And before you ask, I did it because he was an abusive bastard, and just hours before had almost choked me to death while he got his rocks off over my extremely strenuous objections. There, are we done? Do you know enough now?" you snapped, finally done with this game, pissed at Daryl for wasting his only chance for the two of you to speak to each other on goading Negan into asking for that story. 

What the hell was he thinking? 

Negan was laughing, and Olivia was staring at you, wide eyed, over Negan's shoulder. 

"Hell, no, sweetheart. I want to know every goddamn thing about you, because I am just- just fascinated by you. You are one scary-ass bitch with some temper in there, I can tell. But you are cold as ice, too, under some of the worst circumstances. I have your husband as my prisoner, I nearly had your leader cut the arm off of his kid, who you clearly love like your own, and I killed not one but two of your friends, and you sit here and snap at me? Defy my orders just to be sarcastic to your husband? Darlin', you are one goddamn bad day away from being someone I am truly terrified of." 

You leaned back in your chair, suddenly exhausted, and closed your eyes. 

"Is it today?" you asked before you thought, and Merle's sharp breath shattered the suddenly descended silence. 

Fuck, had you said that out loud? Goddamn your mouth. Always getting you in trouble. Shit, damn, fuck it all- 

"Don't you touch me!" Enid's furious voice cut through the quiet, and you were on your feet and moving before you had even opened your eyes. You decided in that moment that you didn't care anymore, Negan could kill you if he fucking wanted to. You were going to help Enid. 

"Well shit, sweetheart, just where do you think you are goin'?" Negan asked as he grabbed your arm and you whirled on him as you heard Carl's voice yelling next. 

"That is a sixteen year old girl, Negan. Sixteen. And she just yelled for someone to stop touching her. Where the fuck do you think I'm going?" you growled at him, and his eyes went hard. 

Oh yeah, you were done for.


	33. An Offer You Can't Refuse Fast Enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
> cannon divergence  
> thinly and completely not veiled sexual innuendo

Well, apparently you could be wrong. 

Negan turned, grabbing you by the arm and hauling you with him as he walked around the corner toward the source of the noise. You took in the scene, Rick holding Carl's arm and looking anguished, and some bald asshole standing over a scowling Enid. Green balloons littered the ground in front of her, and the asshole had her arm gripped in one hand, the other on her face. 

"Hey!" you snapped, and the prick whirled, letting go of Enid. So did everyone watching, and Negan let you go with a chuckle as you stalked forward. 

"Why don't you pick on someone your own size, asshole?" you snarled to the guy, then looked at Enid. "Go. Carl!" 

Carl was at Enid's side instantly, bending to scoop up the balloons and then moving her away from Baldy. 

"Don't go too far, kiddo," Negan drawled in warning, but you were focused on the asshole in front of you. 

He was glaring at you, eyes narrowed, and then he took a swing. You ducked it, and the collective gasping was drowned out by Merle's raucous laugh and the sound of the blood pounding in your own ears. 

Thank God. Thank the fucking Lord for this bastard, because you needed a goddamn fight- a real one, not just a battle of wills with some over-hyped asshole with a baseball bat. 

The asshole yelled as he swung and you ducked again, slipping inside his guard and grabbing his arm mid-swing. You yanked on his arm, jerking the guy off-balance, and snapped your own fist into his jaw. His head snapped to the side and you followed up with a knee to the stomach and he doubled over. You spun in place for momentum and delivered a roundhouse kick to the asshole's bent-over head and he dropped like a stone. 

You were on him in a flash, straddling his prone body and grabbing his jaw. You pulled his head up, knife in your hand and swinging up, when someone grabbed you around the waist and pulled you off him and away. You whirled angrily, knife reversing direction as you struggled to switch out of battle mode and Negan grabbed your wrist even as he let go of you so you stood on your own. 

"Uh-uh-uh, darlin'. We aren't killing anyone today. Now I will forgive you swingin' that thing at me because I did grab you first- and because it is hot as holy hell, let me assure you- but you're gonna need to drop. it. now," he snarled the last three words as you stared at him, chest heaving and hatred in your eyes. 

The asshole on the ground behind you groaned, and suddenly the world came rushing back as Daryl moved behind Merle and Merle slapped his hand on Daryl's chest to hold him back. Daryl was staring at you now, and the terror in his eyes was all for you in that moment. 

Shit. 

The knife fell from your hand as you focused your eyes back on Negan's grinning face. 

"Excellent choice, sweetheart," he whispered. "Merle!" 

"Yeah, bossman?" Merle said, strolling up and giving you a grin. 

"Make sure that piece of garbage on the ground gets put in my truck," Negan ordered, staring into your eyes. Finally he let go of your wrist and dropped down to grab your knife from the ground. "Dwight!"

The scarred bastard in Daryl's vest materialized at Negan's shoulder. "Yeah?" 

"Please disarm this lady here thoroughly. Take it all, but Dwight- watch the damn hands," Negan said purposefully, and winked at you. "She might take them off if you don't." 

Negan turned and sauntered over to Enid and Carl, and you watched him closely as Dwight started by pulling your bow off your back. You didn't look at him as he continued to remove your weapons, just watched Negan looking at Carl and Enid, and Carl staring back while Enid looked at the ground. 

"Little lady, I offer my sincerest apologies on behalf of the piece of shit filth who put his hands on you," Negan said after a moment, and both the kids shot confused looks at you and then him. Negan looked over his shoulder at you when they did, shaking his head with a grin. 

Enid whispered something to the ground and Negan chuckled as Carl slid in front of her just a little. "Kid, you are goin' places," he told Carl, clapping him on the shoulder, and Carl jerked his shoulder away from Negan's touch. 

"Dwight, you done?" Negan said, turning from the kids and looking back at you. 

"Yes, sir," Dwight answered, and Negan strolled back over and whistled at the pile at your feet. He knelt and started picking through things. 

He handed Dwight both of your guns, guns marked in the log and that you'd been wearing plainly the whole time. You'd been fairly certain Negan was waiting for a theatrical moment to them from you. Guess he'd found it. Then he picked up your bow and looked it over closely before holding it out to Dwight. 

You set your jaw and looked Negan in the eyes. 

"Balls of steel, like I said," Negan whispered to you, rising with your knife and machete in his hands. He handed them back to you, and you took them slowly, expecting a trap. He just grinned and turned away. 

"What you got for me, Rick?" he asked as Rick came striding to your side with a bag in his hands. "Well, would you look at that? They were here after all. Funny how a little 'holy shit! Somebody's gonna die!' lights a fire under everybody's ass. So tell me, Rick. Which one of your fine folks almost cost Olivia the rest of her days?" 

"It doesn't matter anymore," Rick answered, and Negan pounced on his words. 

"No, it matters. See, you need to get everybody on board. Everybody. Or, we just go right back to square one. And we do not like square one, Ricky-dicky," he said, his eyebrows twitching up as he winked. 

 

 

Rosita and Spencer came back right as you thought it was finally over. Most of their trucks had left already, and Negan was marching you, Rick, Daryl, and Merle to the gate, obviously as tired of the games as you were of playing them. They started hauling Daryl's bike out of the back of the van, and you ground your teeth together and tried to keep your fingers from tightening on Negan's arm. 

Of course, you couldn't, and he chuckled down at you. 

"It really burns your ass seein' old Dwighty boy with your man's things, doesn't it darlin'?" he asked, and you drew in a deep breath. 

"Yes, it does," you answered him honestly. There was no point in arguing; he could tell. It was all over your face every time you looked at Dwight. 

"I tell you what," Negan offered. "You can have the vest back. That's the thing that brought you to my attention in the first place, and look at how fine this day turned out to be because of it. But I will need somethin' in return." 

You tilted your head and raised an eyebrow, not bothering to ask because you knew it was piss him off just a little. Not enough to be dangerous, but enough to add to the thrill of his control over you. He laughed a little and bit his lip again as he looked at you. 

"I do love a feisty woman, sweetheart. You just push every damn one of my buttons. I will give you the vest, if you will come back with me and be my wife," he said, and you heard Daryl start moving behind you. 

"Dixon, stop," you called, eyes not leaving Negan's. He was grinning at you and didn't react to you speaking to Daryl. You studied Negan as the sounds of struggle stopped. "Is that a request or a demand?" you asked finally. 

His eyes hardened, just a bit, and his tone was frosty. "I already told you, darlin', I do not approve of any pencil dick rapists in my crew. And I can assure you, I do not have a pencil dick. It's a request, which you are free to refuse- but I seriously hope you don't." 

You nodded slowly, thinking about it. 

At least, you hoped he thought you were thinking about it, because the absolute last thing on earth you were going to do was marry this man in way he might intend. The thought of it made your skin crawl and made you want to vomit. 

Besides, you were already married. 

"Well, that is an.... interesting offer," you said slowly. "But I'm pretty happy with who I married, and the company I keep." 

Negan sighed and shook his head a little. "I am going to have to take a gander at Daryl's dick, aren't I? He must have something amazing in those pants to keep someone as fuckin' hot as you. Mmm. That's a shame, sweetheart. We could have some fun together. Oh well, Dwighty boy gets to keep his vest then. And the bike. And the crossbow. Well, until next time, darlin'- because I will be seeing you later." 

He started to walk away, but stopped and turned. "Oh, since I am feeling so very goddamn generous, you should go say goodbye to my man Merle now while I have me a little conversation with Ricky-dicky. But do not get any brilliant ideas about going near my pack mule, no matter how attractive his big dick is."

"There's no need to be nasty," you muttered under your breath, but he didn't need to tell you twice. You went flying to Merle, who pulled you in against him, his hand on the back of your head as you pressed your face to his chest and held on. 

"I missed you so damn much," you said quietly to him, crying into his chest. "You fucking stay alive, you hear me? Stay alive so the Dixons can ride again. And if you can, find a way to tell him I love him." 

"I will, little sister, but he already knows. Come on, don't cry now. Don't leave either of us with our last sight of ya havin' tears in ya eyes, girlie. Make ol' Merle choke up, and I got a reputation to maintain," Merle grumbled at you as you pulled back and looked up at him. You chuckled a little, trying to regain control, but you knew it was a losing battle. 

"Be careful, big brother. I love you, asshole," you whispered as you heard Negan whistle as he walked up behind you. 

"Love you too, little sister," Merle whispered back, and then Negan was there. 

"Ricky boy said 'please' and asked for a few minutes to go see about someone hiding in the buildings out there. Now what do you think that might be all about, darlin'?" Negan said from behind you. 

Fuck. Michonne. 

You'd have groaned, but that would have been bad for all of you. You shrugged instead, stepping away from Merle to face Negan again. You didn't say anything, just gave him a cold look, and he sighed. 

"Ok. Ok, sweetheart, you are right. I made the offer, you said no, and I do need to learn to handle rejection better, I can see that," he leaned a little closer, giving you a playful smirk. "But seriously, what does he have in there?" 

You looked down your nose at him. "Was that supposed to be an apology?" you asked, and he laughed. 

"Oh, yes, I do like 'em with some fire. Mmm. Lucky bastard, my pack mule. Very well, darlin'. I am sorry for my rude insinuation about you and your inability to stay away from Daryl's potentially massive dong." 

Your teeth ground together as he bit his lip and smirked at you, but you knew that was as good as you were going to get. "Apology accepted. Thank you." 

He huffed again. "Mmm. Yes, darlin', you are welcome. So polite, Merle, even when she'd rather claw my eyes out than look at me. Ricky-poo needs to learn himself a thing or two from her. Should have heard how hard it was to drag a goddamn 'please' out of him." 

You watched Dwight looking over your bow, pulling the string back to test the draw. 

Fucking bastard. That bow had been with you since the beginning. You thought you'd lost it at Terminus, but Carol had managed to bring it back to you. And now you would lose it to this asshole? No. He already had enough Dixon belongings. 

"Negan," you asked abruptly, and he left off the tuneless whistling he was doing and looked at you. 

"Yes?" he asked after a moment. 

"I-" you hesitated, but decided to go for it. Things were going well at the moment, might as well take your shot. "I wanted to ask a favor, actually. I have a request." 

"Oh you do, do you? I am interested as hell in this. Go ahead," he said, bouncing forward on his feet as he lifted his eyebrows at you. 

"I would be extremely grateful if- if I could have my bow back. It's- It's sentimental," you said slowly, and Negan looked from you to the bow and over to Daryl. 

"Gift? From my pack mule?" he guessed, and you shook your head. 

"No. I- Well, I stole it. After I stabbed my ex. I thought the police were going to be chasing me, so I broke into a sporting goods store one night. Stole that bow, a bunch of power bars and camping meals, a backpack. Other survival gear. I was going to head off into the woods. The next day, before I made it out of the city, the dead were everywhere. It's been with me ever since," you finished softly. "It reminds me of who I am. Who I was, who I became, where I'm going, and I would be grateful if I could keep it." 

You looked up at Negan's face and he was watching yours, a realness to the interest in his eyes that wasn't there in all his suggestions and innuendos. It was an echo of what had been there when he'd been playing twenty questions with you earlier, and you held your breath. 

"Dwight!" he yelled after a moment, and Dwight jogged over to him. Negan held out a hand. "Bow. Hers."

Dwight laid the bow in Negan's hands, and Negan finally looked away from you. He ran his fingers over the curve of the body, wrapped his hand around the grip. Finally he raised it to his eye, aimed, and drew back. He lowered it with a nod, and held it out to you. 

You were surprised, and reached out for it hesitantly. 

"It's a good weapon," he said simply. "Do not make me regret this by using it for something you should not use it for." 

You nodded. "Thank you." 

Rick reappeared and caught his eye, walking in with Michonne. Rick carried a rifle and that damn bat, and Michonne had a deer across her shoulders. She fixed Negan with a glare as she walked into the gates. Rick walked right up to him. 

"Look at this!" Negan declared, grinning. 

"I thought she was scavenging. She was hunting," Rick said, and held out the rifle. "This one never came inside. We kept it near the line." 

Goddamn it, Rick. Why? If he started wondering why that was, why that one was kept near the line and if there might be others- 

Fuck! 

"Now this is something to build a relationship on," Negan said, taking the rifle from Rick. "Good for you, Rick. This is readin' the room and gettin' the message. I've said it before, I'm gonna say it again. You, sir, are special!" 

He turned away, and Rick looked at you for a long moment before he dropped his head, not looking at Negan or anyone. "Now that you know we can follow your rules...." he said quietly, barely audible. 

Negan was delighted. "Yes?" he asked, turning back and standing in front of Rick with a grin. 

Rick's jaw clenched, but he looked at you and Merle, then met Negan's eyes for a moment before his slid away again and he started to speak. "I'd like to ask you if Daryl could stay," he finally said, and your heart broke at his tone. 

It took a lot out of a man like Rick to say something like that, in that differential tone. It was as close as Rick Grimes had ever come to begging, and you knew it was for you. For you and Daryl. It was about the purest show of love you'd ever seen him display, an apology and a thank you for what you'd been doing today all wrapped up in one, and even Negan's instant refusal didn't diminish what it meant to you that Rick would even try. 

Rick's mouth opened and closed again as Negan declared, "Not happenin'." 

Negan looked from Rick to you to Daryl's down turned eyes and started to grin. "You know what? I don't know. Maybe Daryl can plead his case. Maybe Daryl can sway me." 

You stopped breathing as all eyes went to Daryl, but he didn't move, didn't speak. Didn't do more than cast a quick glance to you and then away, as Negan chuckled. 

"Well, you tried!" he said to Rick. "And I don't blame you one little bit. I'd try just about anything to get on her good side too. Maybe just the attempt will be enough, Ricky-dicky, but I sincerely doubt it. She turned me down, after all," he added with a grin. "And I have it on good authority that that is a very hard thing to do. Now what you got to do is get over that tall wall of yours and try harder out there. Earn for me. Because we're comin' back soon, and when we do, you'd better have something interesting for us, or Lucille? She's gonna have her way." 

Rick's eyes shot to Negan's face and he glared at him, and Negan paused for a moment. 

"I want you to hear that again, Rick the Prick. If you don't have something interesting for us, somebody's gonna die. And no more magic guns," he added. "Arat, grab that deer. It's getting late. Let's go home." 

Michonne scoffed and dropped the carcass from her shoulders before stalking off. 

Negan chuckled. "Man, I love a gal that buys me dinner and doesn't expect me to put out," he teased Rick, trying for one last jab. 

Dwight was tormenting Rosita, but you weren't paying attention. Until Daryl's bike roared and Dwight peeled out, and your hands tightened on your bow as you snarled after him. 

Fucker needed to die, for daring to wear Daryl's vest and daring to touch Daryl's bike. That alone would have been enough, but the way Daryl had flinched back when that asshole touched him? 

Yeah, he was going to die nice and slow. 

Dwight pulled the bike to a stop next to Daryl and Daryl shrank away. You were two steps in his direction before Merle grabbed your arm and Negan turned to raise one eyebrow at you. You jerked your eyes from Daryl to Dwight, fixing him with a glare as he spoke. 

"You can have it back. Just say the word." 

You didn't know what the fuck that meant, but from the way Daryl's eyes filled briefly with scorn, he certainly did. He didn't say anything, and after a moment Dwight shrugged and roared away. 

Negan looked at Rick and grinned. "So nobody died. And I think you and I, we've refined our understanding. Let me ask you something, Rick. Do you want me to go?" 

You shook off Merle's hand and moved to Rick's side, and Negan turned that smug bastard smile onto you while your friend struggled. 

"I think that'd be good," Rick finally got out. 

"Then just say those two magical words," Negan demanded, and his eyes lingered on you. 

Rick stepped forward toward Negan, tipping his head up to the sky before dropping it to the ground. "Thank you," he ground out, and Negan laughed and clapped him on the arm. 

"Don't be ridiculous. Thank you!" 

You grabbed Rick's hand when the walker came out from behind one of the cars and Negan started running his mouth, because you knew the set of his shoulders and saw the way his hand tightened on the bat he still held. 

"Not now, Cowboy," you whispered when Negan's back was turned, using a candlestick to bash in the walker's head. 

Negan saw you standing at Rick's side, and his eyes moved down to where your hand was over Rick's on the bat. "Well well well, Ricky-dicky. You got her to make a move on you already. That is some mighty fast work," he said, running his tongue over his bottom lip slowly as he smiled. "But you have reminded me. You didn't think I was going to leave Lucille, did you? After what she did, why would you want her? Thank you for being so accommodating, friend." 

He sauntered over and slid his hand over yours and Rick's in a caress as he lifted the bat away. He leaned into Rick's ear and looked you in the eyes as he spoke again. "In case you haven't caught on- I just slipped my dick down your throat, and you thanked me for it. Which is something I had hoped would happen with her, in a much, much more literal sense. Oh well, guess we can't have everything we want, can we?" 

You gripped Rick's hand, digging your nails into him to keep him from lashing out now, as Negan chuckled one more time and finally climbed into his own vehicle. You watched as his vehicles pulled out. 

You were holding Rick's hand for another reason as the last one drove away with Daryl and Merle in the back, both of them staring after you, and you shook with the effort of holding back the tears.


	34. Your Mental To Do List Is Already Too Long

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence

As soon as they turned the corner, you sank to the ground and started screaming into your hands, over and over. Rick was just standing beside you, and after a moment you heard footsteps coming up at a dead run. 

You'd stopped screaming and were just shaking now as you cried, and the running feet slid to a stop and arms came around you, and Carl was saying your name and pulling you against his shoulder. 

"Dad!" he snapped when you didn't move, just cried and tried to remember how to fucking breathe. "Come on, Dad!" 

Then Rick's hands were gentle on your back, and he was tugging you to your feet and trying to pull your hands off of your face. When he succeeded, you looked at him, tears streaming and unable to catch your breath. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered, and you shook your head rapidly, arms locking around your stomach as you turned away from Rick, suddenly impossibly angry with him. 

Like it was his fault they were gone, even as you knew it wasn't. 

"Come on, YN, let's go. We're going home," Carl whispered, and you leaned on him more than you wanted to admit as he tugged you back inside the gates and glared at everyone who was still somehow gathered around. 

These were the people you were supposed to lead, and you knew there was a shit ton of things to do. You tried to stem the tide of tears, tried to get a hold of yourself so you could get to work on the next step, but every time you pulled in air, your lungs seized and more tears would fall. 

"We're almost there. Just a little further. We're almost there, it's ok," Carl was saying to you as you walked, and this was ridiculous. You were supposed to be there for him. You were supposed to keep him steady, not the other way around. 

"Yeah, well, you do that all the time. You're due," Carl said dryly, and you wondered how he knew. 

"Because you're talking, idiot," he said fondly. "You're in shock." 

Shock? No. You weren't in shock. 

You were just scared and sad and heartbroken and overwhelmed and terrified and- 

"Yeah, that's what shock looks like for you. Remember after Dale? You were the same way then. Mumbling every thought in your damn head, and all of them circled back to your bow- it's on your back, by the way," Carl said as he opened the door to your house. "Now sit down and just shut up, ok? Just shut up and sit there and cry if you need to. I'll be right back." 

Then he shoved you down onto the couch in your own living room and disappeared up the stairs with a worried look back down at you. It felt like you just blinked and he was back, but that had to have been wrong, because he was holding Daryl's flannel shirt and a blanket from Merle's bed in his hands, and forcing you to put your arms in the sleeves and wrapping you in the blanket. 

Suddenly you were surrounded by the scent of both of them, and the ocean of grief welled up inside and crashed over you in a wave that swept you under and you were gone. 

 

 

You woke up on your couch, hearing Carl's voice and Judith's baby babbles softly from somewhere nearby, and you smiled before you remembered. 

Negan. Merle. Daryl. 

Son of a bitch. 

You pulled yourself up with a groan, the blanket from Merle's bed falling as you did, and you heard footsteps as soon as you started moving. They hesitated in the doorway, and you turned to see who it was. 

It was Rick. 

"I'm sorry." He said it to the floor, not looking at you, and you rose from the couch and walked over to him. Your feet were bare, so someone had taken your shoes off. Probably Carl, you thought, looking beyond Rick to where Carl was sitting at your kitchen table and feeding Judith. You smiled at him and mouthed a thank you, and he just gave you a smile and a nod in return. Then you turned your attention to Rick. 

"Cowboy, look at me," you said softly, and he shook his head, jaw tight, before finally meeting your eyes. "I don't blame you for Daryl or any of it. And no one else really does either." 

"I blame me. Michonne blames me," he muttered, and you heard Carl's sigh behind you. 

"Michonne blames you? Really?" you asked, seriously doubting that. 

"She doesn't blame him. Except for that last rifle," Carl said, sounding pissed. "She just wants him to fight back- like we all do." He emphasized the last part, shooting his dad an irritated glare. 

"We can't fight. They have the numbers. Even with the Hilltop, they have the numbers! We play by their rules, we get some kind of life." 

"What kind of a life is this, Rick?" you asked quietly. He looked at you, and you put a hand on his shoulder. "I don't blame you. You're right; they have the numbers. We couldn't have fought them, not yet. But we could. If we prepare. We could." 

"I know Judith isn't mine," Rick said abruptly, and you looked at Carl in confusion. Carl rolled his remaining eye hard. 

"What are you talking about, Cowboy?" you asked, giving Rick a 'what-the-fuck' look. 

"She's my daughter and I love her, but I know she's Shane's. I had to accept that, to protect her. So I could keep her alive. I'll die before she does, and I hope that's a long time from now, so I can raise her and protect her and teach her how to survive. This is how we live now. I had to accept that, too, so I could keep everyone else alive." 

"Dad, this is the same fucking speech you gave me and Michonne," Carl burst out. 

"Language, Carl," you said absently, eyes on Rick. "Cowboy, it is not your fault when people die. And being a leader? It means more than just keeping people breathing. It means giving them something to live for. I won't live for a life like this. Not when I know it can be better." 

"Sometimes it is my fault when people die. And we all have to accept this, or it won't work," Rick said, and there was something beaten and broken in him that you'd never expected to see. You glanced at Carl and he shrugged, shaking his head. He saw it too, and you nodded slowly. 

You weren't going to put Rick back together right now; hell, you were barely together yourself. 

"I accept it, Rick. For now." 

 

One day later, and you already knew who was going to be problematic. Michonne was pissed and was going to be an issue if Rick let things fester for too long. Spencer was already a problem, and you knew that if he was given half a chance, he'd try to take over from you and Rick. Rosita was going off the rails. She was acting odd, and you were pretty sure she'd picked herself up a gun somewhere. Lucky for you, she didn't have any bullets. 

And she didn't know where your weapons drops were, because only you, Rick, and the Dixon boys knew that. 

"We need to talk about the guns," you'd told Rick quietly when Carl took Judith back to their house for a nap. 

"The ones outside?" 

"No, the ones we gave to Negan. Yes the ones outside, Cowboy," you rolled your eyes. 

He'd shrugged. "We don't touch them. If we have a week where we don't find anything, we dig them up and give them to Negan."

"Pretty sure he said no more magic guns." 

"We'll do what we have to," Rick said simply.

Yeah, you were pretty sure you weren't doing that. You privately added 'move all the dead drops around' to your mental to-do list. It was right there with 'get Daryl and Merle out' and 'kill Negan slowly'. 

But the biggest thing you needed was to get to the Hilltop. You needed to check on Maggie, needed to see with your own eyes that she was safe. Needed to see if she still had the baby. Needed to see Glenn and Abraham. 

You didn't say anything to Rick; you knew what he'd have to say about it. He'd already brow beaten you into staying behind in Alexandria while he went on the supply run with Aaron. You'd been there when he tried to talk Carl into going with him, and that one had gotten ugly. 

 

"You should come with us." 

A dart thunked into the wall beside the target as Carl tossed it. His aim was shit with anything other than a gun right now, but the kid was still trying. "Someone has to take care of Judith." 

"There are people around who want to help. We'll only be gone for a couple of days at most. We need supplies. They're gonna be coming back soon." 

"Is this how it's going to be now?" Carl exploded. 

"Yes," Rick snapped. 

You leaned on the wall beside Michonne and grabbed her arm when she opened her mouth. She looked at you, and you shook your head. Let the Grimes handle this without outside interference. 

"It is. You know that," Rick continued, and Carl shook his head and threw another dart. It thunked on the wall beside your head, and he winced as you looked slowly from it to him. 

"Sorry, YN. See you in a few days," he muttered to Rick, who sighed. 

"We should get going." 

"See you soon, Cowboy. We'll be ok. Stay safe. You too, Loverboy," you told Aaron with a gentle smile. Rick grabbed your shoulder as he walked past and squeezed, not looking in your eyes. He was making a habit of not looking in your eyes anymore, like he was ashamed to look at you. 

You wondered if it was because of Daryl and Merle, or because of Negan. You wondered if he even knew he was doing it. 

 

You were watching as Enid started climbing one of the wall struts. You were impressed with that girl; she had brains and guts, and if she could just get them put in the right direction, she'd probably be excellent for Carl. 

Speaking of whom- there he was, just as you'd thought he would be. Carl's hella crush on Enid kept him observant of her. As soon as you noticed her sneaking through the streets with her backpack, you knew she'd be going to Hilltop. She was devoted to Maggie and Glenn after rescuing Glenn and getting him home. Or hell, maybe they'd rescued each other. Glenn had been good for that. 

You strolled in their direction as Carl tried to argue with her and she made it halfway up the strut, sliding short pipes into place as movable hand and foot holds. Oh yeah, you really did like her. 

"I'm sorry you had to see it," Enid said softly as you walked up behind Carl. 

"I'm not," he snapped. 

"Hey, kids, whatcha doin'?" you asked, and Carl jumped. Enid's head snapped around and she had a guilty but stubborn expression when she saw you. You grinned, slinging an arm around Carl's shoulders. 

"You guys do know there's an easier way out, right?" you asked calmly, and they looked at you in confusion. 

 

The car was silent, Carl in the front seat beside you and Enid fidgeting in the back. You were trying not to laugh and trying not to cry, all at the same time. 

"Why are you helping me?" Enid asked finally. You met her eyes in the mirror. You were already halfway to Hilltop, and so far, smooth sailing. 

"Who says I'm helping you? I was going, saw you attempting to escape. Alexandria's not a prison, you know, and while I completely approve of finding new and creative methods of keeping skills sharp, you could think about maybe just using the gate sometimes. You know, so people know where you are," you answered with a shrug. Carl snorted beside you. 

"Enid doesn't think anyone gives a shit about her and where she is," he said angrily. 

"Glenn did. Maggie does," Enid shot back, and that was a knife twisting in your heart. 

"Come on, kids, don't make me turn the car around," you muttered, and were rewarded with suppressed laughs from both of them. 

 

You ditched the car a little way before the Hilltop. "Alright, boys and girls, we'll walk it from here," you declared. "We need the element of surprise. Here is how this is going to work. We'll get close together. We will scout the place out. If and only if it is safe, I will go in first, alone. You will wait out here until I come to get you." 

Your eyes bore into Carl's and he glared. "Fine," he snapped, pissed. 

You turned to Enid, eyebrows raised. She looked mutinous and said nothing, and you sighed. "Look, honey, I get it. You don't know me all that well. You don't trust me or anyone really. But you seem to like Grimes there, so you're obviously smart. Ask him to tell you some stories while you wait, so you get to know me a little better. Believe me, if you do not agree right here and right now, I will knock you out, tie you up, and drive your ass right back to Alexandria, where I will put you in the cell. Then I will come back here, without you, and make sure the Hilltop is safe before I let you out of that cell." 

"She will," Carl muttered under his breath, and you flashed him a grin. "God, she's scary when she gets like this," he added, grinning back at you. 

"Fine!" Enid snapped. "I'll wait. Promise." 

You nodded. "Good. Grimes, keep an eye on her." 

 

Hilltop looked peaceful, but there was something off about the place. You studied it for a long time, through the binoculars you had grabbed. 

"Grimes, you weren't here before," you said when it finally hit you. "The gate's broken. Something's off. I'm not saying you have to leave, but the two of you need to stay here, and stay hidden. I'm going to check it out, because we have people in there. The leader, Gregory, is a total dick, but he's not the only one in charge. Hell, he's not really the one in charge at all. I'm gonna find Ninja Jesus. If I can't get back out, I'll send him. If neither of us come for you in three hours, go the fuck home. Promise me," you said finally, giving him a hard stare. 

He looked at your face and nodded. "Promise." 

"Good. Love you and stuff," you told him, because you'd done too much leaving your loved ones without telling them that and then never having another chance to do it again. 

"Love you too and stuff," he said quietly after you as you melted into the trees.


	35. You Can Admit It, You Snapped. A Few Times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> discussion of past rape/non con  
> discussion of fear of rape/non con

You slid through the broken gate unchallenged, and wasn't that a bad sign? When you got inside, you saw why. 

There had been a fight here. Probably the night before, but you weren't sure. Your bow was out and you had an arrow on it, partly drawn as you crept through. You weren't really trying to hide, but you didn't want to just stroll right down the center of the path, either. 

"YN?" 

It was Maggie's voice, and you rose from your half crouch and turned slowly.

"Maggie," you whispered, and you shoved the arrow back in your quiver and ran toward her. She was staring and she was still pale, but she looked a hell of a lot better than when you'd last seen her. You reached her side as she stood beside one of the FEMA trailers, and you had tears in your eyes. 

"What are you- what are you doing here?" Maggie asked, looking lost. You reached out a hand, and she fell into your hug as Sasha came out the door behind her and froze when she saw you. 

"Hey guys," you said, sniffing back tears. It'd been nearly a week, and what a fucked up week it had been. You were a little emotional. "I came to check on you. Mags, I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner. I- I-" 

"I know," she whispered, arms still around you. "I know. I'm so sorry about Daryl, YN." 

"You?" you said, pulling back to look at her. "You're sorry? Maggie, I- Glenn- and Abraham- I don't even-" 

You broke off at the look on her face, knowing how hard it was to hear people say they were sorry or say the name of someone you love who was gone. Hell, you'd been short and angry and Merle hadn't even been dead. 

"Thank you," Maggie whispered. "I know you loved him, too." 

You nodded, swallowing hard. "Mags, I have to ask- are you- the baby?" 

She actually smiled a little. "I still have the baby. Doctor said I have to take it easy for a few days, and he wants me to stay here." 

You closed your eyes and let out a long exhale of relief, some of the tightness easing from your chest. "Thank God. Oh, God, Maggie. You should stay here." 

"Yeah, well, there might be a problem with that," Sasha said grimly, and you felt your jaw set. 

 

No way was that asshole kicking them out of Hilltop, especially after Maggie and Sasha had saved their asses the night before. You strode ahead of them, and you could hear Maggie snickering behind you. 

It was amazing to hear her laugh like that, even if you felt the raw edge in it. 

You slammed opened the doors to Gregory's office, and he jumped. Ninja Jesus was there, and his face lit up at the sight of you before amusement settled in his eyes as you leaned over Gregory's desk. 

"Maggie and Sasha are not leaving, asshole," you snapped at him. 

"Who are you?" the old man stuttered, and you sighed. 

"YN. Came with Rick and Maggie. You probably don't remember me, because you're a pompous ass. They aren't leaving. They saved your shit last night, and you will be letting them stay." 

"And what makes you think I will listen to you?" he blustered, and you smiled coldly. 

"Because if you don't, I'll cut your balls off and make you watch while I feed them to a walker. And then I'll take your eyes and feed them to you," you hissed. Maggie's half-smothered laugh came from behind you, and Sasha actually chuckled as well. 

"Excuse me? Who do you think you are, threatening me?" Gregory asked, drawing himself up, and you sucked in a deep breath as you tried to calm the fuck down. 

Maybe threatening someone you intended to leave people you cared about with was not the best plan you'd ever had. 

"Tell me how to make it work, Gregory. Tell me what you want for them to stay," you said flatly. 

He eyed you for a lingering moment. "I think- I think we'd need to meet one-on-one to discuss how-" 

"Go to hell," Maggie snapped, and his eyes shot to hers and widened. 

"Are you implying...?" 

"No, asshole, you were implying. You were suggesting," you sneered. "The problem you don't even know you have, however, is that I have faced off with people so much better at it than you. So you? You are an ant beneath my shoe." You leaned forward, ready to hammer your point home, when you heard the truck. 

You were at the window, Ninja Jesus and Maggie at your sides as the pickup came barreling through the broken gates. 

"Do you know what they'll do if they find you here?" Gregory snarled, and you knew it was Saviors. 

Shit, shit, shit! 

"Jesus, get them in the closet. You go, get in there now, you don't move, you don't speak, and maybe you get out of this alive!" Gregory hissed as you shot him a glare, and Jesus touched your elbow. 

"Come on," he said quietly, and you turned to go with him, because you needed to keep Maggie safe, no matter what.

Outside the dick's office, Jesus took you rapidly up the stars, taking them two at a time. "He'll think about selling you out, so I'm going to put you in one he didn't mean. You will be safe, I promise. I'll make sure of it," he said, locking eyes with you as he closed the closet. 

Son of a bitch!

 

Jesus opened the door and met your eyes with a half-smile. You put your knife away and helped Maggie out, glancing at Sasha to make sure she was alright too, and the bedroom door slammed open. Gregory stormed in, and you were glad you'd put your knife away when he started to speak. 

"I said to put them in the hallway closet!" he declared angrily and you felt a chill touch you. So he'd tried to hand you over, just as Jesus had said. 

If your knife had been in your hands, he'd have been dead. Jesus stopped you with a hand on your arm as you started forward, then crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Gregory. 

"No, you said 'closet'," he said mildly, and you smirked. 

You'd almost forgotten how much you liked his guy. 

"This is my bedroom! What if they came in here before I-" 

"Before you tried to give us up?" you snapped. "They would have killed you first."

"Honey," he said snidely, putting up a hand. "I'm talking to Jesus." 

"Stop," Jesus said, eyes flashing. You just chuckled. 

"Why are you even defending her? We're here right now because she and- and Rich didn't handle things like they said they would."

"The Saviors tried to kill you!" Jesus exclaimed. 

"That was a misunderstanding! And as soon as they leave, we get them the hell out of here before something bad really happens!" 

"Oh for fuck's sake," you muttered. "Something really bad already happened. Something bad is going to happen to you in a minute if you don't get your head out of your goddamn ass and pay attention. It's Rick, by the way, not Rich." 

"They're staying," Jesus said as Gregory whirled on you. "Or do you want to make it public? Do you want to make the deal with Alexandria public? Lose your plausible deniability? Lose your position," he added softly as Gregory gaped. 

"So you're going to be in charge now?" Gregory asked, incredulous. 

"No," Ninja Jesus said, sounding pained at the thought, and you snorted. This guy was way too much like you. "It's just that you won't be. Maggie and Sasha are staying. YN can stay as long as she likes, though I get the feeling she won't be here long. I'm staying. We're all going to be one big happy dysfunctional family." 

Go Ninja Jesus! You saw the moment Gregory gave up, as he chuckled and rolled his eyes. 

"So we will be. And I'll see us through his," he said, hands on his hips. "I made progress with them today. You saw it." 

"That's not what I saw," Jesus said with a sneer. 

"Well, that's what happened. We play nice, they play nice. See dear?" he added, giving you wide berth as he stepped over to Maggie. "Saviors can actually be quite reasonable." 

Holy shit. 

Maggie hauled back and punched the guy in the jaw, out of nowhere. 

"Mags!" you yelped, delighted, as Gregory grabbed his jaw and glared at her. Maggie took a step forward and reached toward his pants, and you had a second to be confused before your heart stopped beating and you were reaching for your knife. Jesus wrapped an arm around you, holding you back, as Maggie pulled Glenn's pocket watch- the one Hershel had given him so long ago- from Gregory's pocket. 

"What the fuck? Jesus, let me go!" you snapped, struggling against his hold. Maggie looked at you and held up her hand, shaking her head. You subsided, but Jesus kept his hand on your arm as your chest heaved and you stared at Gregory with narrowed eyes. 

"It's a fine watch. Doesn't need to be left out in the rain," the asshole said, and you growled. 

Maggie looked down at the watch in her hands, then up at Gregory. "This is our home now. So you'll learn to start to call me by my name. Not Marsha, not dear, not honey. I'm Maggie. Maggie Rhee," she said, and you were crying. 

 

"When I got here, Gregory was already in charge," Jesus said as Maggie and Sasha peered out the window at the Saviors. You sat at a table, flipping your knife in your fingers and worrying about the kids, out there in the woods waiting for a signal you couldn't give. Hopefully they'd just go home like they promised, but Grimes had a bit of an authority problem these days. 

No idea where that might have come from. 

"I thought the people chose him for a reason. Looking at it now, I think it just happened. I didn't like how he did things. But I couldn't imagine anyone else in his place." 

"What about you?" you asked, and he flashed you a smile. 

"Can you imagine yourself in Rick's place?" he shot back, and you had to admit he'd gotten you there. Maggie smiled at both of you. 

"Anyway, now I can," he said, eyeing Maggie. 

"Who?" she asked, and he exchanged a look with you. 

"We'll talk about it sometime," he muttered, and you grinned. "I should have talked to Gregory sooner. I hope you'll let me make it up to you." 

Maggie smiled at him. "We will. The gates are closed," she added. 

"They're still loading up outside, Mags," you protested, but she just gave you and Sasha a look. 

"I'll see you back at the trailer," she said softly, and left. 

"Well then," you muttered, and eyed Sasha. "What's up with you?" you asked her bluntly, and Jesus looked between you in surprise. 

"What's happening back home?" she asked, and you felt your face shut down. 

"It's not good," you said grimly. "He was there. Yesterday. He-" you shivered a little. "He took a liking to me." 

Sasha snorted. "Yeah, everyone seems to," she muttered. 

"Don't be a bitch," you snapped at her, and her eyebrows shot up. "Look, I get that you don't like me much, and that's cool. I'm sorry for what you've been through since I've known you. You've lost a lot, and it sucks ass, but seriously, lose the attitude. I am so not in the mood for it." 

"You're not in the mood?" She started, and you cut her off. 

"No, I'm not in the mood. Do you know what I did yesterday? Yesterday I walked arm in arm with the bastard who killed Abraham and Glenn, let him proposition me over and over and over again, while he made Rick carry his goddamn baseball bat around for him. My husband, Negan's fucking prisoner, was walking with us, and he wouldn't let me look at him or speak to him, much less hold him or see if he's actually ok. Daryl was, in case you're at all interested, covered in bruises and dressed in clothes that were not his. Do you know what that usually means when you've been taken prisoner by someone, Sasha? To be next seen wearing clothes that aren't yours? Because I do." You felt Jesus jerk as you shoved away from the table you'd been sitting on, but you were on a roll now. 

"I am intimately familiar with what abusive pricks in power do with those they take prisoner. Remember how we fucking met? On top of that, my brother in law, who I believed to be dead up until about five fucking days ago, was in almost as bad a shape as my husband was, and he was supposedly rescued by those assholes! He theoretically works for them and he'd still taken an obvious beating. And there I stood by that sick bastard's side, my hand on his arm, and helped him take half of our things, including all of our guns and all of our mattresses. Why the fucking mattresses?" You tossed your hands in the air, pacing back and forth now as Sasha and Jesus stared at you. 

"I don't know. Probably just because he's an asshole! And then, then, he wanted to play Twenty Questions, and guess who got to talk about all the fun little tidbits in her history? That's right. Me. Ever had the man who killed your friends and took your husband captive pry into your worst memories? No? Cool. I have. So no, Sasha, I am not in the mood for your shit right now. Your life sucks, I will not lie. But I'd rather have Daryl and Merle dead in the ground than have to live with trying to decide what will keep the most people I love alive- fighting this bastard like every bone in my body is screaming to do, or giving him what he wants and 'marrying' the sick fuck so all of you can live!" You were yelling out the last bit when Jesus grabbed your arm and spun you around, pulling you into a hug. 

You caught just a glimpse of Sasha's deathly pale face before you started sobbing and shaking.


	36. The First Rule

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence

You hadn't meant to fall apart again, and you definitely hadn't intended to explode all over Sasha like that. She might be a bitch, but she'd just lost her boyfriend in the most brutal way you could imagine. And god knew you could imagine a lot. 

Jesus had taken you to the doctor first and was sitting with you now as Dr. Carson handed you water and essentially told you all you needed was to hydrate and rest and grieve. You smiled at the man and drank as you were told, knowing everyone in that room knew you wouldn't be doing any resting anytime soon. 

When Dr. Carson left you and Jesus alone, you looked down at the glass in your hands. "Sorry, Jesus," you whispered. 

He shrugged. "I don't blame you. I don't know much about you, but if what you were saying is true, you've earned a few explosions." 

"Yeah, well, I've earned myself some ass-kissing apology time with Sasha, too," you muttered. "Ugh." You set down the empty glass and pressed your fingers to your eyes. 

So fucking much to do. 

"How can I help?" Jesus asked, and suddenly you had an idea. 

"Are you really a ninja?" you asked, looking up at him slowly. He chuckled a little, shrugging modestly. 

"I'm just fast and quiet. And I know some things," he said as he met your eyes again. 

You laughed. "Yeah, I know some things too. Can you find the Savior's home base?" 

He thought for a minute. "They're still out there. One of their trucks is headed straight for Negan. Yeah, I can do that." 

You started to smile. 

 

You went to Jesus' trailer as he went to slip out from the walls and sneak onto one of the Savior's trucks. You were about to knock on the door when it opened. 

"Don't be mad. There's things you need to know." Enid looked at you earnestly as your eyes went wide. 

"Enid, what the fuck?" You grabbed her by the arm and pushed her up inside, where Maggie and a stone-faced Sasha were sitting at a table with three place settings, clearly eating lunch. 

"Ok, Sasha, I owe you like an hour's worth of apologies, but Enid here is supposed to be in the woods waiting for my signal with Carl, which she very clearly is not. So I'm thinking that's a little more urgent, ok?" you said, and you watched Sasha's eyes go wide. 

The first rule, man. Don't fuck with Carl. 

"So, Enid. Why are you in here, how are you in here, and where the hell is Grimes?" you asked, and she looked away. 

"I tried to stop him, but he wouldn't change his mind. Said he had to, for you, for his dad, for Daryl. For me," she whispered, eyes on the floor. 

Oh fucking hell. You had a really bad feeling you knew where this was going. 

"He's trying to find their compound, isn't he?" you asked wearily, pinching the bridge of your nose with your fingers. 

"Yes," Enid said. 

"Fuck," you muttered. 

 

You had to get back home. 

As soon as the coast was clear, you were heading out with a bag full of easily transported food and what medicines the Hilltop doctor had been able to spare. It wasn't much, but it was at least something in case of an emergency. 

You were pissed as hell. 

He'd promised. He'd fucking promised, and now he was in a truck headed for Negan's compound, and no matter how much Negan respected his 'giant man sized balls,' Carl was dead if he got caught. 

And you knew he'd fucking get caught, since according to Enid, he was trying to kill Negan. 

For you. For Rick. For Daryl. 

You left Maggie and Enid and Sasha with hugs, apologies- Sasha not only accepted yours but offered one of her own, and maybe you'd never be real friends, but at least she didn't hate you- and strict instructions to stay alive and send any messages through Jesus. You didn't mention that Jesus was also on his way to the Savior's base for you. Mostly because you trusted him to be a ninja and get in and out fine. 

You were slightly less pissed and worried than you might have been, because you hoped he could convince Carl to get his ass back home with Ninja Jesus. You hoped, but somehow you doubted it. 

 

You hit the gates and were barely through them when Eugene yelled from where he was on the perch, and you groaned wondering what fresh hell had arrived now. Eugene climbed down and went to the gate as you passed off your bag of supplies to one of Carol's soccer mom ladies to get to Olivia. 

Carol. That was another fucking item to add to your list. You hadn't seen or heard anything from her or the Monk since Tobin had knocked on Rick's door-   
Jesus, was that only a week ago? It felt like a lifetime. Maybe more. 

You started jogging back toward the gate as Eugene finished opening it, and in walked- 

No way. You smiled when you saw her, but then you remembered. She wouldn't know. Shit, so much had happened, and she wouldn't know. 

The smile fell from your face and from hers as Tara got a look at both you and Eugene and pulled the crazy sunglasses off her face. 

 

She sat in the floor of the infirmary, holding a bobble head doctor doll with blonde hair and a cheesy over sized grin. Your heart ached for her- Denise was her girlfriend, and you'd missed most of their relationship in your haze when you thought Merle was dead. 

And Glenn- well, Glenn had saved Tara and Tara had saved Glenn. Glenn was why you knew Tara at all. 

Everything hurt when you thought about Glenn. 

"I'm sorry," Rosita whispered from the other side of the room. Shit, you'd almost forgotten she was there. 

"I'm sorry too," Tara's voice was dull. 

"We don't have to just sit here," Rosita exploded. "Guns, ammunition. You don't have any leads? Anything, anywhere?"

You tipped your head back to stare at the ceiling for a minute, and moved 'change the dead drops' higher on your mental to-do list. Every single person in this town was hell bent on killing Negan, each one on their own. 

"Rosita," you said wearily as you brought your face back down to look at her. "Can you just chill? If you think we aren't all working toward getting that bastard dead, you're wrong. But we have to have a plan. We can't all just go off half-cocked, or we're going to end up very dead instead of him. Do you hear me?" 

She shot you a murderous look. "Are we trying to get a plan?" 

"Yes," you told her. "I am. Why do you think I went to Hilltop today? I work best when I have information and I have time to plan. Give me some time, Rosita. Just a little time. And I'll get Rick on board. You know I can." 

She glared. "We can square this. Make it right. We have to." 

"We can't," Tara said softly. "We can't bring them back. We need to plan, like YN said. Besides, Negan has Daryl and Merle. We can't do anything stupid while he has some of our people. And I didn't see anything like that out there." 

Finally, a voice of reason. 

Even if she was lying her ass off. You saw the way she looked at the shell bracelet on her wrist and looked guilty when Rosita talked about guns. She knew something she wasn't telling. That was ok- so did you. And you'd get it from her eventually. 

When were these people going to learn they had no secrets from you?


	37. Did You Hear Someone Ask For A Miracle?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> discussion of rape/non con

They were trying to kill you. That was the only explanation you could come up with. Your people, the family you loved, were trying to fucking kill you. 

Michonne was gone, and frankly, you had no idea where she was or what she was doing. But you were worried. Rick and Aaron were still gone, but that you'd expected. Rosita was on the warpath, Tara was hiding something, Eugene was melting down, Gabriel was still disturbing, and Spencer was trying to oust Rick. 

Oh yeah. 

And Carl was trying to break into the Savior's place. Like an idiot. Or someone with a death wish. 

God, Rick was going to kill you for losing his kid.

 

You paced just inside the gate, trying to decide just what the hell you were going to do. You didn't exactly have a lot of options here, and waiting around for Carl to hopefully find his way home sure as shit wasn't one of them. 

"Damn it," you muttered, and flung the gate open. 

You headed into the woods at a rapid pace, working your way around Alexandria all along the wall line. You had seven dead drops to get to, uncover from their various hiding places, and get put somewhere else. Normally, seven of anything didn't sound like that big a deal. But you had some serious time constraints right now, not to mention the fact that you absolutely, above all else, could fucking not be seen. 

The first one was fairly easy, tucked out of sight on a carefully reinforced platform in the rafters of one of the burned-out houses. It wasn't hard to grab the backpack, but navigating the only path that wouldn't leave the entire building collapsing in a heap made it harder than it looked. Luckily for you, you'd been the one to stash the thing, so you knew the process. 

You got it replaced a row or two down, wedged into the corner of the mostly-picked-apart engine of the remains of a particularly rusty car. You'd had to lay down and shimmy under the thing on your back, and the bag wasn't visible unless you were under the car, so you were fairly certain that was a good and safe location. 

The next two went off without a hitch as well, requiring some scrambling in the trees, the use of a harness system to keep you in place, and the judicious application of some fallen leaves and mud, but they seemed safe enough. Bag number four was a bitch to uncover, since you had literally buried the thing in an ancient grave out beside some old cabin you'd found- three worn-smooth headstones side by side and weathered, onto which you'd carefully planted a bush you'd ripped from the woods nearby to cover the fresh digging several months ago. 

No surprise the bush was dead now, but the bag was undisturbed once you'd finally dug it up. You, on the other hand, were more than a little disturbed, as well as being covered in dirt, mud, sweat, and a liberal dash of blood from the walkers you'd been having to periodically dispatch. 

Three more to go, and it was taking longer than you'd hoped. Jesus should be back soon, unless the Saviors were a hell of a lot further away than you guessed. You held a mental debate with yourself before deciding to hit one more and then sneak into Alexandria. 

This was, if not your favorite drop to check on, one of the more clever ones you'd figured out. Carl had actually introduced the idea to you, and you'd been like two kids at a candy store, giggling and laughing like you'd gotten away with something when you started exploring the sewer tunnel system together. Rick, Daryl, and Merle had gotten thoroughly tired of you coming home smelling like shit and laughing like you were high, and finally you'd been forced to tell them all what you were doing. 

Now you painfully pushed aside the rock that covered the manhole and wrestled it open. You dropped down into the sewer, grabbed the bag situated there, and climbed back out again. You jogged over to a nearby tree and climbed up it to the tree stand affixed to the trunk. You clipped the bag into the stand, then reached into the bag and pulled out the camo netting inside, draping it over the bag and the tree stand with a critical eye. You dropped back down from the tree, rolling with the impact, and scooped up some fallen branches, shoving them into your belt so you could climb back up. 

When you were done, you could tell the stand was there, but only if you studied the tree very closely. 

"That'll do, pig," you muttered, and covered the manhole up again. Then you headed at a jog for the gates, hoping Carl would be inside with Jesus standing guard over him. Getting five out of seven of the dead drops shifted was a relief; if Rick decided to do anything without telling you about it, he only had a minimal amount to work with. 

 

You ran into Jesus on the way back, and your heart dropped to your toes when you saw that he was alone. 

"Son of a bitch," you muttered as he pulled the bandanna down from the lower half of his face. "Is Carl with you?" 

"No. I saw him, on the truck. He tricked me into jumping off before him, and he rode in the rest of the way." 

"Fuck!" you yelled, not caring if walkers came. You'd almost be ok with having a herd to tackle alone. The dead were so much easier than the living. "Jesus, what do I do? What do I do?" 

"I found them," he said. "I can take you there, but I don't think it's a good idea. Not at all." 

You froze. 

You could go there. Ninja Jesus would take you. You could save all three of them. 

Funny how you had zero doubts that you could take on all of the Saviors with just Ninja Jesus at your side. Probably not logical. You probably weren't thinking straight. 

"I can't- I need to- Shit balls!" you exclaimed, and started pacing while Jesus watched you, arms folded and eyes intense. You had to weight the options. Had to work your way through it, through the pros and the cons, and decide what the best course to take was. 

"If we go. If I get in- you won't be; just me- if I get in, I can get inside information about their compound," you began slowly. "I could save Carl or Daryl or Merle, maybe all three of them." 

"Or you could get yourself killed or worse, and not help anyone. And like hell would I let you go in alone." 

You shot Jesus an irritated look. "We'll fight over that later. This is a cost/benefit analysis." 

"A verbal pro con list. Done a few, usually talking to myself though," Jesus said with a faint smile, and you grinned at him. 

"I really like you, dude. If I don't go, I'm sitting around waiting to see if Carl gets himself killed. I can't do that. I can't just sit around." 

"I like you too, which is why I have to be the voice of reason here. If you go, and this Negan really is as interested in you as you think, why would he let you go?" Jesus asked seriously. 

You raised an eyebrow at him. "As interested as I think? Dude, the guy asked me to marry him." 

Jesus snorted. "Fair enough. Why would he let you leave? Why wouldn't he just keep you there, force you to marry him?" 

"Negan's not the forcing type. At least not in the rapist way. He'll manipulate, blackmail, and back you into a corner until you agree, but he won't tie you up and force himself on you," you answered seriously. "He has a code. A fucked all to hell code, but still a code. He expects- demands- subservience, but he respects strength of will. He wants to be stood up to just enough to show you've got a spine and a mind of your own, but not enough that you challenge his authority. He likes it when someone smarts off to him, but not when they disobey him. He thinks people are important to keep alive, but he enjoys killing to prove his point, since he thinks its the most effective way. But never more people than he has to." 

Jesus was eyeing you. "You almost sound like you like the guy." 

You laughed grimly. "Oh, I hate him. But I understand him. There's a difference. He's the best kind of bad guy," you mused. 

"What kind is that?" 

"The kind you could easily become if you had one really bad day," you muttered. "So you can get into their heads. Ok, Ninja Jesus. Think you can pull off a miracle?" 

He turned his eyes heavenward. "I'm not going to like this, am I?" he asked the sky and you laughed. 

"Not at all." 

 

The plan wasn't exactly complicated and was quite risky all in all. But it was the only move you had. You swung into Alexandria to change into something clean and leave behind your bow and note for Rick or Michonne or whoever might get there first, and you ignored the pandemonium that was running just under the peaceful-looking surface of the town. A quick check in Rick's window showed that Olivia was there with Judith, and you let out a sigh of relief. 

Then you used the short pieces of pipe you'd confiscated from Enid to climb one of the struts and flip over the wall. Jesus was leaning idly against a tree, waiting for you. 

"This is a terrible idea," he said again as he fell into step with you. 

"I know," you agreed as you reached the car you were planning to take for this trip. 

"Why are we doing it again?" 

"Because it's the only play we've got," you answered grimly.


	38. Carl Might Have Gotten His Authority Issues From You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> sexual innuendo and suggestions  
> discussion of torture

You let Jesus out where he told you and drove the rest of the way yourself, slowly, with your heart pounding. When the bullets hit the ground in front of your car, you stopped, parked, and stuck your hands out the window, opening the door from the outside and stepping out slowly. 

"I only have knives on me!" you shouted toward the factory. "I'm here to see Negan. He has someone of mine, and I'm here to get them back!" 

"What the fuck do you think you're doin' here, little sister?" Merle yelled, stalking toward the gate. "Have you lost your goddamn mind?" 

You stared at him and tried not to cry. He'd obviously taken another beating since you saw him the day before, and in addition to the bruises there was a thick, bloody bandage wrapped around his arm that was missing a hand. Shit. He wasn't doing so well walking the line with Negan, was he?

He grabbed you by the arm and pulled you inside, glaring at you as several other Saviors looked on. "Are you tryin' to get someone killed, darlin'?" he hissed in your ear. "Here to see Negan, huh? Well, as luck would have it, ol' Merle here was just on his way to see the big man too. I'll take her in, boys," he tossed to the others, and Chip-on-her-shoulder Arat suddenly stepped in his path. 

"I don't think so, Merle. Boss says you're not to be alone with any of your old people," she said. "I'll take her. Boss is in his bedroom, but he's called for a meeting. By the furnace." 

Arat took you by the arm and shoved you forward as Merle's jaw tightened. 

"Arat," he called after the two of you, and she scowled over her shoulder. "I think ya know what'll happen if she don't make it to him in one piece, don't ya?" 

"Fuck off, Merle!" the woman snapped back, and then you were being shoved through a door. 

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. 

God, you hoped you were right about Negan. 

 

Negan's bedroom was the last place you'd ever hoped to find yourself. It was also the last place you'd ever hoped to find Carl Grimes, but here you were, shooting him a glare that promised a Dixon-Grimes grudgefest if you both lived through this thing. 

"Well, well, well, darlin'. You and your people are just full of surprises today!" the man himself declared when Arat knocked and then opened his door, shoving you inside. 

"Yes, it's been a day for those," you muttered, rubbing at your arm unconsciously where Arat had been holding onto it. 

"I came as soon as I learned about Carl's plan," you told Negan with a smile. "I hope you're willing to talk with me about what we can do to rectify the situation." 

"'Rectify the situation', Jesus. You sure are polite, considering your little serial killer here crept into one of my supply trucks, stole a gun, and killed two of my men," Negan shot back, voice hard. 

Fucking hell. You'd really hoped the kid hadn't done anything that dramatic. You glared at Carl again. 

"He has... authority issues," you growled, and he swallowed hard and looked at the floor. Negan started laughing. 

"That is one way of putting things, I will give you that! Now, I do not want to kill the kid, but he did take out two of my men, and threatened me- again. I know you Dixons have some weird-ass attachment to this kid, but you came to my house, which you should not have been able to find, and now you want to- what? Negotiate for his freedom? No. No, I do not think so, sweetheart," he finished softly, and your heart sank. "Now, the little serial killer and I have had us a nice chat- he told me about shooting his mom; I mean, damn. You people have some truly awful life experiences behind you, don't you?- and he's sung me a song. Get up, kid," he added to Carl, slapping him on the shoulder. 

You breathed a little easier at the genuine sadness you'd seen in Negan's eyes when he talked about Carl and Lori. You hadn't thought about Lori in ages, and you wondered how often Carl did, but from the pain in his face, he was thinking of her now. He kept his head ducked as he rose slowly, and you realized he'd taken- or Negan had taken- the bandage off his eye, and Carl was using his long hair to keep it hidden from the world. 

Your heart clenched and rage filled you. Number one fucking rule, Negan. Number on fucking rule. 

You were going to make this bastard pay. Not today, and maybe not tomorrow, but some day sooner than he expected- he was going to find out what happened to people who broke rule number one. 

"It should be ready," Negan added, holding out his arm to you and giving you a look that said he knew better than you'd like what you were thinking. 

"What should be ready?" Carl asked quietly, and Negan's smile was slow and creepy as all hell. 

"The iron." 

 

Well that didn't sound very damn good. 

You resisted asking questions as you strolled along on his arm, and you could tell he liked that; liked seeing you hold back your suspense. Carl was on his other side, and you were trying not to be too obvious about looking around for Daryl or shooting Carl reassuring looks. 

From the way Negan chuckled at one point as you glanced down a hallway, you weren't succeeding very well. Lucky he was in a tolerant mood, it seemed. 

Either that or he'd already decided he was going to kill you. You really, really, really hoped you'd read this guy correctly. 

 

He banged the damn bat on the wall as you approached, and suddenly everyone on the level below you, gathered around a furnace, started going down to their knees. Negan looked at you and raised his eyebrows. 

See? You could have all this, he seemed to be saying with his expression. 

You glanced at Carl, who had dropped back a step, and he looked scared. You didn't blame him. You were pretty fucking scared. And you were like seventy-five percent certain you were going to make it out of this. 

Ok, fine, more like sixty percent. But still. 

Then you saw Daryl in the crowd, still in those sweats that didn't belong to him, gripping the handle of a mop and- 

And on his fucking knees. 

You tensed your fingers clawing into Negan's arm- you couldn't help it- and Negan whispered, "Easy, princess," in your ear. 

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. 

You forced yourself to relax, to pull your eyes from him and look up at Negan with a smile. 

"That's better," he said, grinning down at you. "Here- hold this for me," he told Carl, and dangled Lucille the bat from his fingers loosely. Carl took it hesitantly, looking like he'd rather have it come swinging at his head, but you gave him an encouraging nod. 

That was actually a good sign. You thought. 

He led you to the railing and laid his free hand on it dramatically. 

"You know the deal," he began, addressing the room at large. "What's about to happen is gonna be hard to watch. I don't wanna do it. I wish I could just ignore the rules and let it slide, but I can't!" 

You looked more closely at the assembled people while he monologued, and noticed Dwight the asshole standing by the furnace, wearing Daryl's vest and looking like he was going to hurl. Merle was on one knee at Dwight's side, eyes on Daryl instead of on Negan or you, and you hoped to hell he wasn't going to get into any more trouble for that. He'd already taken enough hits for you. 

There were women among the group, including Chip-on-her-shoulder Arat, who was liberally sneering at you and at some of the other women there. Women with their hair down- unlike Arat's short crop and your ever-present braid- clean skin, and little black dresses and high heels. Women who the rest of the people there were very careful not to be too near. 

The doctor in a spotless white coat was a surprise, but somehow the man tied to the chair was not. Someone had to be the recipient of this entire melodrama, and you were fairly certain it had been planned before Carl ever made an appearance. So it must have been aimed at the poor bastard in the chair.

What the hell was going on in this place? 

"Why can't I ignore it?" Negan asked, voice hard, and a chorus from below answered him. 

"The rules keep up alive!" 

Well, at least you'd been right about him having rules and a code, one he expected everyone to follow. Hopefully you were also right about what that code was. 

Negan led you and Carl partly down the stairs as he continued his speech. "That is right. We survive. We provide security to others. We bring civilization into this world!" 

So far, spot on in your assessment. You'd be sure to ask for your gold star when you got back to Alexandria alive. 

"We are.... the Saviors." 

Oh God, you almost gagged on that one. 

"But we can't do that without rules. Rules are what make it all work. I know it's not easy. But there's always work. There is always a cost." 

Faces were turned toward him as he patted your hand and gently unwrapped it from his arm. "Stay right here, with the little serial killer, would you, princess? Oh yeah- we're going with princess. Because that is what I will make you, when you agree to be my wife," he said quietly, then licked his lips and winked at Carl. A glance at the kid showed him looking like he wanted to swing the damn bat at either Negan or himself, just to get away from Negan hitting on you. Well, maybe that was you projecting a little. 

You smiled and gripped the railing to wait patiently. Negan smiled back and wandered down a few more steps. 

And that's when you met Daryl's eyes. You could tell by the way he was staring that he'd seen you before, but there was so much pain and fear in them that it seemed to have shocked him out of whatever torture Negan's men had used to keep him docile in Alexandria. Instead of looking beaten down and exhausted, he looked pissed and ready to fight. 

Shit, if this wild plan of yours got your Dixon boys hurt or worse, you'd just go on and volunteer for Negan to swing that bat at your head next. 

"Here, if you try to skirt it, if you try to cut that corner, then it is the iron for you." 

The iron. The iron. Oh shit. Dwight's face. 

You suddenly had a feeling you knew what was coming, and now you wanted to join Carl in hurling. 

You watched Dwight exchange a quick, hesitant glance with Daryl as Negan commanded everyone to their feet. One of the women in black was crying, and two of the others had their arms around her shoulders. The poor bastard in the chair was shaking and struggling, but he wasn't going anywhere, and he knew it. 

Negan walked to the center of the group, clapping the guy in the chair on the shoulder as he passed, and drew on heavy welder's gloves that were waiting right there for him. "D?" he asked, and Dwight slowly pulled a glowing, hot-as-balls, cast iron... well, iron, out of the furnace. 

You reached over and gripped Carl's hand tightly, not sure if it was for your comfort or his, or to hold you both in place. You wanted to go to this guy's defense, but you looked back over at Daryl and Merle, held Carl's hand tightly, and kept yourself fucking still and silent. There was no way to help him, and trying would get your people hurt. 

You cared about your people more than you did about this random Savior, and you had no shame in admitting it. 

Negan was monologueing again, and you were trying desperately to observe everyone and everything as closely as possible. You saw the way Dwight the asshole and the brown haired woman in black looked at each other a little too long, a little too sadly. The way the doctor's hands were shaking and he looked sick. The way the crying blonde's hands clutched at her dress and her heart was in her eyes. The way the other three in black looked anywhere but at three specific men in the crowd, each of the men in different sections and very deliberately looking anywhere but at the women. 

The way all of them flinched away from Negan. 

Then the screaming started, and the smell of burning flesh rose, and Carl's hand gripped yours hard enough to bruise as he jerked beside you. You held him back and hissed through lips that didn't allow to move, "Stand still, Grimes. Stay still." 

He obeyed, and Negan met your eyes over the screaming man's head. As he stopped screaming and passed out- blessedly for him and everyone gathered there- Negan blew you a kiss. 

The bastard blew you a kiss. 

Then he pulled the iron- and about twelve layers of skin- from the guy's face and started to laugh. "Ah, that wasn't so bad now, was it? Jesus. Pissed himself." 

He handed the iron back to Dwight and walked over, standing right behind Daryl. Daryl flinched a little- you knew how he hated being touched by anyone when you'd first met him, and while that had gotten better, it wasn't like he enjoyed it from anyone but you, and this asshole? Fuck- and Negan practically had his nose on Daryl's ear as he told him to clean the piss up from the floor. He stared at you the whole time, and it was Carl holding you back now with his grasp on your hand. 

You were going to kill this asshole nice and slowly. You were going to tie the bastard to a chair like the poor fuck down there, and carve little bits and piece off him one at a time and feed them to a fucking walker while he watched and you laughed. Maybe the walker could be Dwight the asshole. Yeah, that worked for you. You'd start with his fingers and his toes, then maybe the flesh from the inside of this thighs- that was a good, meaty part; nice and sensitive. You'd probably save his dick for last, or at the very least go in stages, not for the whole thing at once. Then, when he was in so much pain he was going to pass out or bleed out anyway, you'd patch him up. Just enough to keep going. Maybe for days. Maybe- 

Ok, yeah, this was getting a little too savage even for you, and besides, Negan was looking at you and grinning like he knew what you were thinking. Now was not the time to lose yourself in violent fantasies.

Negan was making a speech, but you were distracted by the way Dwight and Sherry were eyeing each other, and then Negan was stalking back up the stairs to you and Carl. He leaned into Carl's side. 

"That's some crazy shit, huh? You probably think I'm a lunatic. Come on. Let's go figure out what to do with you two."


	39. Head Trauma Sucks Ass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

Back in Negan's bedroom, what the fuck. What the fuck. 

He had you and Carl sit down, and he had a notebook in his hand that look suspiciously like the ones that littered your kitchen table in Alexandria right now. Probably full of shift schedules, supply lists and requests, copies of inventory, maps with drop points, exit routes, territory markers. 

The territory markers were something new you'd been adding to your own files, and boy did it feel weird. 

"Can I wrap my face up now?" Carl asked politely, after fidgeting for a bit at the silence. 

You knew the damn power play for what it was, and had simply sat, hands in your lap and still. 

"No you absolutely may not," Negan said mildly, and you felt yourself grinding your teeth together again. You knew how much the kid hated the way his face looked, and Negan making him take the bandage off was just something else the asshole would pay for. With blood. 

"Why the hell not?" Carl half-shouted, and you didn't even bother to give him a look as Negan chuckled and lowered the notebook to catch your eye. 

"Look at this badass," he said with a grin. "You can't because I'm not done with you. And I like looking at your disgusting, rad-ass, badass eye, so it's staying out. What? You got something to say?" He asked when Carl glared. 

"Why haven't you killed me? Or my dad or Daryl or Merle or YN?" Carl asked, and that got a reaction out of you. Negan shot you a look when you tensed, but you didn't back down. Didn't relax any. 

"Merle is already mine. Why would I kill him? Daryl is going to make a good soldier for me. You see, he thinks he's holding it together, but you saw it. She saw it, didn't you princess? Oh yes, I see the look in your eyes. Your dad? He's already gettin' me great stuff. You, on the other hand... It's more productive to break you. More fun too. On the other hand, the only person I think I might be genuinely afraid of on this green godforsaken earth is sitting right beside you," Negan turned to give you a slow smile. "And she has made it very clear that you are the hill she will plant herself to die on. Which would be a damn shame, because I still very much want to make her my wife." 

"You have a ton of wives, why do you need someone else's?" Carl snapped. 

You raised an eyebrow. "You have a ton of wives? Thought I was special." 

"Oh, princess, you are special. I do have several wives, but you- you I'd make queen of this place in a heartbeat," Negan answered, leaning forward and biting his lip again. "You think that's stupid, kid?" 

"I'm thinking we're different," Carl said softly. 

"You're a smart kid," Negan turned to him with a crafty little smile. "What do you think I should do? You know I can't let you go. So, do I kill you? Make YN here watch to break her down? Take her prisoner and force her to be my wife?" 

You snorted at that. "What was all that about pencil dick rapists?" you muttered when he raised a brow at you. 

"Touche, princess. Scratch that last one, kid. Do I iron your face? Chop off your arm? Tell me. What do you think?" 

Suddenly Carl was on his feet and in Negan's space. "I think you should jump out the window and save me the trouble of killing you." 

You dropped your head into your hands and let out a groan, even as Negan started to laugh. 

"Now there is the kid that impressed the hell out of me! Princess, did you hear him?" 

"I did," you muttered. 

"I think you're not saying what you're going to do, because you're not going to do anything. To me or her," Carl snarled. "If you knew us- if you knew her. If you knew anything, you would kill us." 

"Carl, man, you are not helping this situation right now," you muttered while Negan just grinned. 

"You can't though, can you?" Carl continued, ignoring you completely. "You need people to find you shit, so you can't kill my dad. You need people to work for you, so you can't kill Daryl or Merle. And you're scared of YN and want to fuck her, so you can't kill me or her." 

"Language, Grimes, for fuck's sake!" you snapped, completely unironically, as you tossed your hands in the air with a groan. 

Negan whistled, long and low, as he and Carl had a stare down. "Maybe you're right, kid. Maybe I can't," he said quietly. "Let's go for a ride!" 

Wait, what? 

You and Carl exchanged confused as hell looks, and you added a 'what the fuck do you think you're doing, Grimes?' eye twitch. Carl gave a slight shrug that you correctly interpreted as 'I don't know'. 

Great, so he had no plan. You, at least, had a plan when you ran your mouth. Most of the time. 

Sometimes. 

Oh, hell, you were all dead. 

 

 

Negan hustled Carl toward the door, pointing you back into your chair as you stared to rise. "No, no, princess. The little serial killer and I need to have a private chat before we take our ride. He did kill two of my men, after all," he said with a wink. 

"Rule number one, Negan," you snarled at him, giving him an unfiltered glimpse of the real you. 

He licked his lips slowly and glanced at Carl. "Kid, tell me that made you as hard as it just made me. Damn, and in my bedroom, too!" 

Carl gave him a completely disgusted look and Negan laughed. Then his eyes swung back to you, and his smile turned vaguely predatory. "Princess, I know all about your rule. He'll be returned in the fine condition I found him in. Arat!" he snapped, opening the door. 

"Yeah, boss?" Chip-on-her-shoulder Arat said, coming into the room and sneering at you. Negan's eyes narrowed at her. 

"Sit with our guest, will you? The kid and I need to have a private discussion." 

Then he was gone, shoving Carl out the door as you watched with narrowed eyes. Arat leaned on the wall and folded her arms, sneering at you. You sighed, settling back in the chair and closing your eyes. 

"Yeah, get comfortable," Arat muttered. 

"What the hell is your problem?" you asked, more for a distraction than out of any real interest. What was Negan doing with Carl? He'd said he wouldn't hurt him- more or less- but you didn't know if you trusted him to keep his word. He was the asshole trying to subjugate your people, after all. Even if he had rules, you didn't know if he told the truth. 

"My problem? Is bitches like you. You and Sherry," she spat out. 

Who the fuck is Sherry? 

"I have no idea what you're talking about, lady," you said, opening your eyes and raising an eyebrow at her. 

She glared, shoving off the wall and stalking over to where you sat. She stared down at you for a long moment, and you waited. This was entertaining, at least. 

"The two of you, you come in and make him think you're strong enough for him. Get his attention in some flashy way, make him interested. But you're really weak. Don't know what true strength is. You manipulate him into taking you in, then you go behind his back and cheat on him with the weak assholes you left him for!" She spat it at you, and you started to laugh. 

"Honey, I'm not manipulating anyone. And I'm sure not trying to get his attention. Hell, I don't want him. I'm married, to his fucking prisoner. And if you think anyone is manipulating him, you don't know him as well as you think you do. Besides, if you want him so bad, go get him," you finished with a shrug. 

She growled. "What makes you think I haven't tried?" 

"Oh," you said slowly, drawing it out with a smirk. "That explains it. This the only way he lets you in his bedroom? Jealousy doesn't look good on anyone, sugar." 

You weren't sure why you said it. You'd hadn't meant to let her get under your skin, but the implication that you were trying to get Negan- 

Well. 

You should have known better though, because you could see how on edge she was. All she needed was a little push to do something violent, and you really should have been trying to avoid that, given your current location and all. But as usual, you had to open your smart mouth and see what came out. 

And you were right- as you looked away from her in clear dismissal, she lunged. She was on you, knees on either side of you on the couch you sat on, and a fistful of your shirt in her hand dragging you partway up. She yelled something at you- probably along the lines of 'shut up, bitch' but you weren't sure- and slammed her fist down into your eye. 

"Fuck!" you shouted as your head snapped to the side. She pulled back, ready to deliver another hit, but you felt yourself smiling. 

Oh, it was on now, sweetheart. 

You slammed upward with one knee, driving it into her crotch. Not as effective as it would have been on a guy, but anything hurts if you hit hard enough. You grabbed the arm holding you with the opposite hand and jerked forward before shoving back, even as you took the next wild swing from her fist on your jaw. 

Shit! You saw stars with that one- two good punches to the face would do that to anyone- but you were in survival mode now, and lack of vision didn't matter when your opponent was literally on top of you. You planted your feet and exploded upwards, and she was off balance enough from what you'd done before for you to get to your feet as she fell with a crash into the coffee table. 

Negan's notebook went flying, and you took a rapid step to the side, but Arat was a tough bitch. She had to be, to run with the Saviors like she did. She was on her feet almost as soon as she hit the table, and there was a knife in her hand. 

"Shit, shit, shit," you muttered as your hand automatically dropped to your side, where your own knife should have been, but wasn't. 

Arat chuckled and came at you in a blur of motion, and you could admit it- you weren't at your best. Between the hits you'd just taken, your lack of weapon, and the unfamiliar territory of Negan's bedroom, she had the advantage, and she pressed it well. You backpedaled, trying to stay out of her way as she sliced with the knife, but your foot hit the edge of the couch and you stumbled, falling to your knees heavily. She was on you in a flash, knife lashing out. You got your arm up to block it, protecting your face at the last minute, and instead the blade cut into your arm deeply. You cried out, a wordless yell of pain, and then she slammed the butt of her knife's handle down to your head and the world went black. 

 

 

When you came to, there was bright sunlight in your eyes and the world was spinning and swaying. 

"Shit," you groaned, and a hand grabbed yours and held on tightly. 

"YN?" It was Carl's voice, and he sounded scared. 

Fuck, Carl. Negan. Carl. 

You eyes popped open and you yelped, closing them again instantly as the bright light speared into your brain. 

"Well, well, well, princess. Back with us, then?" 

Negan. 

You opened your eyes more cautiously- one at a time and slowly- and this time the light only made your head feel like someone was beating a drum solo on the inside of your skull. That was a vast improvement over the hot poker that had tried to reach your brain through your eyeballs the first time you opened them. 

Carl's face was anxious as he looked down at you, and you realized you were laying flat on your back and some of the swaying of the world wasn't just in your head. You were in the bed of a pickup, the black one that Negan had driven up to Alexandria in, and Carl was gripping your hand. Then Negan's grinning face came into view beside Carl's. 

"What the hell happened?" you asked, starting to sit up. Negan grabbed your arm and steadied you as you did, and with the way the world dipped and tilted, you couldn't even be mad about it. 

"Now that is an excellent question," Negan drawled, face going hard. "See, Arat there-" he nodded toward the other end of the truck bed, and you eyed the bruised and tied up woman warily as she glared back at you. "She says you came at her. But the little serial killer here raised the excellent point that if that had been the case, Arat should be dead. And since she was not showing any real signs of having the shit beat out of her, I was.... uncertain if she was telling the truth."

"Yeah, she wasn't," you muttered, shading your eyes and taking a long look at Carl. He was pale, worried looking, but unhurt- you thought. "You ok, Grimes?" you asked him, and Negan chuckled. 

Carl glanced at Negan and then back at you and nodded. "I'm good. Are you ok? You don't look so good, and you've been out for awhile." 

You took stock for a minute. Your face hurt, your head hurt like a son of a bitch, and you were still pretty dizzy. There was a dull ache in one arm, and you glance down in surprise the see that the sleeve had been ripped from your plaid shirt on one side and there was a bandage around your arm. 

All in all, you'd had worse, and you were more irritated that she'd gotten so many hits in on you and you'd gotten nothing back. You shot her a glare and then swung it to Negan's smirking face. "That how you treat your guests? Lock them in a room with your crazy bitch and let her go to town?" 

Arat snarled and made a move, but Negan pointed at her without taking his eyes off of you. "Sit your ass down, Arat, and shut the fuck up before I change my mind and kill you now." 

You smirked at Arat and Negan chuckled again. 

"I'm thinking, princess, that you should tell me what happened now," he said grimly, and you didn't try to hide your annoyance. 

"I sat. I waited. She called me and someone named... Susie? Sally? Hell, it's fuzzy. Sherry! That was it. She called me and Sherry bitches, claimed we were weak and just manipulating you," you shrugged. "I've no idea who Sherry is, but Arat is obviously a jealous idiot, and when I told her that, she jumped on me and started punching." You frowned, trying to put the fractured pieces of the fight back in order. "Did she pull a knife on me? God, head trauma sucks ass." 

Negan wasn't speaking, and you looked up from scowling into the the floorboards in thought. He was staring down the length of the truck bed at Arat, whose eyes were wide and face was deathly pale. 

Ohhhh shit, Arat was going to die. 

Then the truck pulled to a stop and you realized you were home. Alexandria. 

What the hell was Negan doing?


	40. It's Not Good When You Go From Afraid to Annoyed- At Least, Not Good For Them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> sexual innuendo/ references

He knocked on Rick's yellow door with his bat. Something about that struck you- that gruesome thing on the sunny yellow door. 

Olivia opened it, her eyes wide and terrified, and Negan strolled right in, whistling. Olivia looked at you and your no doubt colorful face and then at Carl. "Carl, where's-" 

"Enid's fine," Carl interrupted, and you put a hand on Olivia's arm to steady her as she shut the door behind her. 

"It's ok. Just play along with whatever he says," you said in a low voice. 

"Great great great great great great great!" Negan exclaimed as he looked around the living room. "Where's Ricky-dicky?" 

"Uh, I- I'm just--" Olivia stuttered, and you ground your teeth as Carl glared you into a chair. Kid was right, you were pretty much useless on your feet at this point, so you sank down into one of the bar stools and tried to figure out what the hell Negan was planning. 

"Don't care," he sang out, interrupting Olivia. "Where's Rick?" 

"Out scavenging for you," you spoke up. "He's not back yet, right?" you asked Olivia, and she nodded rapidly. 

"Cool," Negan answered with a grin at the other woman. "I'll wait." 

"Umm... he went out pretty far. They might not be back today," Olivia stammered, and Negan turned his eyes to you. 

"That right?" 

You nodded. Fuck, mistake- your head throbbed worse with the motion and you groaned a little. "Yes, they were planning to be gone for a few days," you ground out instead, pressing your fingers to the temple that wasn't sporting a massive bruise. "Listen, Negan, you took most of our medicines, but I think you left us some basic over the counter painkillers and shit. Can Carl or Olivia run and get some from the pharmacy? Your bitch has a good punch, I'll give her that." 

Negan chuckled, raising an eyebrow at you. "Princess, princess. Trying to get people away from me? I don't think so. Kid, open that door and tell whoever's on the other side of it to go get my future wife something for her head." 

"Future wife?" you muttered, in too much pain to really watch your words. "Pretty sure I said no thanks." 

"You did. But you won't for long," he said in a sing-song voice as he came over and touched your chin, tilting your head so he could look at the bruise on your eye. "Well, shit, princess. Arat did get in a good one, didn't she? Don't worry; I actually think it makes you even more hot, and believe me I did not think that was at all possible." 

You forced a strained smile at him. "Thanks?" 

"You are welcome. Mmmm. I am.... hungry. What have you got to eat here, kid?" he asked when Carl closed the door and came back to stand by your side. 

"We're running really low on everything. We're practically starving here," Olivia said, and Negan let go of your chin and walked back over to her slowly. 

You sighed, knowing this wouldn't end well but not having the strength or the ability to do anything about it. 

"Starving?" He said, and you heard the scorn in his voice. "You? By 'practically' you mean 'not really'." 

Well, fuck. You might have agreed with him on his assessment- no one in Alexandria but your people really knew the meaning of starving- but he didn't have to be an asshole about it. 

"Dude, seriously?" you snapped as Olivia covered her face with her hands and turned away crying. Negan gave you a baffled expression and you glared at him. "You don't have to be a jerk about it," you muttered, nodding toward Olivia. 

He gave you a long look and then grinned finally, biting his lip, before he turned back to the crying Olivia. "Really? You people seriously don't have a sense of humor. Excuse me? What's your name again?" 

Olivia turned around, trying to stop crying and drew herself up as best she could. You gave her an encouraging smile behind Negan's back, knowing she'd need all the strength she could get. "Olivia," she ground out through her clenched teeth, and you nodded approval. 

He liked strength, even if it was false bravado. 

"Right. Olivia," he touched her arm gently and she looked startled. "I am sorry for having been so rude to you just now," he said, and you were surprised to find you actually believed him. "And it looks like I'm going to be here awhile, awaiting your fearless leader's return. And if you'd like..." 

Oh god, where was this asshole going with this? You didn't think either you or Olivia was going to like it. 

"I think it would be enjoyable to screw your brains out," he said, and looked back at you with a grin. 

You huffed out a sigh as he continued. 

"Especially since my future wife over there is being difficult, though she is welcome to join us as well. I mean, if, you know, you're agreeable to it," he added, looking back at Olivia. Olivia was glaring at him, and to your surprise and secret delight, she hauled off and slapped him across the face. 

"Shit," you exclaimed, jumping a little. Negan shook his head like he was trying to clear it and looked at her for a long moment before leaning in close. 

"I am about fifty percent more into you now," he whispered, and you barely resisted the urge to slam your forehead into the counter at high speeds. 

Funny how longer exposure was making you less afraid of this asshole and more annoyed with him. 

Olivia was shrinking back from him, looking terrified, and Negan was grinning. "Just sayin'," he said, and you decided it was time to step in. 

"Can you leave her alone? You're scaring the shit out of her, asshole," you said, and he gave you a surprised look. 

"Watch your tone, princess," he said mildly, and you blinked at him, deadpan. 

"Look, sugar," you drawled. "We've played our games. I know who you are, you know who I am. We're dangerous people, but we have our rules. You have leverage on me, since you have my brother in law and my husband back in your compound- smart move, by the way, not bringing them with you this time. So I'm not going to break any rules or do anything stupid that would get them hurt. But you're not going to hurt me either, and we both know it. I have leverage too, if only because as Grimes here so eloquently put it- you want to fuck me." 

"Oh yeah, I do," he cut in, biting his lip again. 

"I know," you shot back, annoyed. "So why don't we just drop the act, sugar? You're about seventy percent attracted to me for my attitude anyway, so I'll just be me and you just be you, and we stop trying to pretend either of us is anything but what we are, ok?" 

"And just what are we, princess?" he asked, voice low and dangerous as he made his way to stand over you. 

"Near equals," you answered promptly. "You were right about one thing- I am one bad day away from being something to fear, because I am one bad day away from being just like you." 

He looked down into your eyes and you returned the look squarely as he said nothing for a long moment. You could feel Carl fidgeting behind you, but you didn't back down. Finally he started that slow smile again and leaned in even closer to you. His lips brushed your ear and you didn't move an inch. 

"You are so hot when you defy me, princess. I'm gonna make you scream my name," he whispered and you smirked. 

"Please. I'd have you begging me for mercy- twice," you said dryly and he growled in your ear before leaning back. 

"Be careful how you tease me, darlin'," he said with a wink, eyes shifting to Carl behind you. "Alright, well, I'm just gonna put my feet up and wait for my stuff to get here. Olivia?" he turned to her and she tensed again. "Would you be a lamb and make us a little lemonade? Now I know I left you all some of that good powdered stuff." 

"Well, I'm supposed to be with-" 

"Make it!" he cut her off, and you let out a breath. She was watching Judith, and Negan didn't know about Judith. 

You didn't think he'd be a threat to her, not really- something about him just didn't scream child-killer, the same way he didn't scream rapist- but still. He didn't need something else to hold over Rick or Carl. 

"Make it," he repeated, softer. "Take your time. Make it good." 

She bolted for the door with one more long look at you. 

 

"Alright, kid- this is your house right? You aren't living here too, are you, princess?" Negan asked with a suggestive eyebrow wiggle. You sighed. 

"No, I'm not living here." 

"Cool. Take me on the grand tour then, kid!" 

By the time you'd followed Negan around as he fucked off in most of the downstairs of Rick's house, letting faucets run and wiggling his bare feet on the carpet, you were thoroughly sick of everything to do with him and seriously contemplating killing him right then. 

Fortunately, you didn't have any kind of weapon on you at the moment, and neither did Carl. When Negan headed upstairs, Carl shot you a wide-eyed look as he stopped in front of the door to Judith's room. 

"What's this one?" 

"Oh- it- it's just a water heater," Carl stuttered, and Negan gave him a look. 

"Are you serious, kid? Come on." Negan opened the door and you grabbed Carl's hand. 

"Oh-ho, my," Negan whispered, and handed Carl Lucille. "Look at this little angel," he said softly, and scooped up Judith. 

 

"Oh, this little girl is precious," Negan said, rocking Judith in his lap on Rick's porch. Carl sat perched on the railing, and you sat in the rocker between them, a pitcher of lemonade on the table with two glasses. A third glass was beside Carl, untouched, as he stared at Negan holding his baby sister. 

Alexandrians kept wandering by, and you'd give each of them a small smile and a word of reassurance. 

You'd finally- thank God- gotten your painkiller, and the headache had faded from throbbing to dull. Negan had unbent so far as to take off the leather jacket, and you were watching him almost as much as Carl was, if not for the same reasons. He actually meant it when he looked at you and smiled, declaring that he liked it here. It was the most real looking smile you'd ever seen from the man, and you were already wondering how to use it to your advantage. 

Which did make you feel slightly like a despicable human being, since he was holding Rick's daughter, and you were trying to use Judith as an advantage in your fucked up chess game. But hey, if no one else died, you'd use whoever and whatever you had to to win. 

Hell, you'd even sleep with the bastard if it came down to it. That was the last thing you wanted to do- for so, so many reasons- but if it kept Carl or Rick or Judith or Olivia or Daryl or Merle or anyone else alive? 

Well. You'd been there before, hadn't you? And look who came out on top.


	41. It Always Comes Back to Spaghetti and Innards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> character death

There were several ways you'd anticipated this playing out, but Negan shaving off his beard while giving Carl shaving tips, then putting on an apron and cooking spaghetti in Rick's kitchen was definitely not one of them. Plus, there was Carl- also in an apron- making biscuits while both of them refused to let you do anything but sit there with ice alternating between your jaw and your eye. Frankly, you thought you might have been hallucinating all this, but you would never have hallucinated Carl's eye being exposed or the downright tender way Negan played with Judith. 

Yeah, you were either completely insane or this was actually happening right now. Life is weird, man. 

He insisted the Olivia join you for dinner, and you rolled your eyes hard but didn't protest. Olivia brought over another pitcher of lemonade, balancing a passed-out Judith in her other arm, and Negan held up his glass and raised his eyebrows at her. She poured slowly while he grinned, and you sighed loudly. 

"Stop terrorizing her. You've made your point. We're here; she's here; you're top dog," you said firmly, and he chuckled and sipped his damn lemonade. 

Then you waited. 

 

About twenty minutes later Negan sighed. "I'm not waiting for your dad anymore. I don't know where the hell he is, but Lucille is hungry," he declared, propping the bat in the chair. 

Olivia looked at the bat and scooted a little further away. 

"Carl, pass the rolls," Negan said, and when Carl hesitated, he looked at you and smirked. "Please?" 

 

 

It wasn't the best meal you'd ever had, but you had to admit the man could knew how to make a jar sauce better. He seemed legitimately pleased when you told him so, though Carl gave you a slightly betrayed look. 

You'd shrugged. "Kid, don't get me wrong, I still think he's an asshole. But he's an asshole who can make a good spaghetti." 

Negan laughed hard and Olivia jerked. You shot her a reassuring glance, then raised an eyebrow at Negan as his laugh faded to a chuckle. "Not offended by that are you, sugar?" you asked with a smirk. 

"Offended? No, princess, I am an asshole," he said with a wink in Olivia's direction. "But I do make a tasty-ass spaghetti." 

"Just imagine what'd it be like if we'd found a pasta maker," you muttered to Carl, and the kid cracked a grin. 

 

 

"So, can I ask a question?" you asked when dinner was over and Olivia had gone to put Judith in bed. Carl was washing dishes and Negan was wandering around Rick and Michonne's living room with Lucille, reading the titles of books and generally being a nosy ass. You had been moved to the couch and plopped down with strict orders to do as little as possible. 

Apparently, Carl and Negan could agree on one thing. 

"You can ask," Negan agreed, picking up some stupid piece of decor and moving it about two inches to the left. You had not expected that level of pettiness from him, but somehow, you weren't all that surprised by it either. 

"What are you planning on doing with Arat?" 

The woman in question was sitting on the porch, some other asshole standing guard over her, and you could see her out the window. She wasn't bound any more, but she didn't have any weapons, either. You were genuinely curious if she'd taken all the punishment she was going to get in the beating she'd obviously been given, or if there was something more headed her way. 

Negan followed your gaze out the window, then looked back at you. "Have you got an opinion, princess?" 

You snorted and shook you head. "Hell no. It's your business what you do with your people. I'm just bored, to be honest." 

Then you saw Spencer walking up, and you groaned. 

 

 

"I just want to talk to him," Spencer was saying. 

"I said no," Arat snapped. Her guard was leaning against the wall behind her, arms crossed, and she stood on the steps. Spencer was at the base of them, holding what looked like a bottle of booze. 

Probably the bottle he'd had hidden in the same place as the two missing guns. Fucker. 

Negan looked at you and raised his eyebrows. "She is protective, but she's just missing that- spark," he whispered, giving you a once over. You didn't react and he chuckled, resting a hand on you lower back as he walked onto the porch. 

"Don't be an asshole, Arat," he drawled, and she jumped. She shifted out of Spencer's way and he sneered at you a little as he walked up the steps. 

"Oh, crap. Is that for us?" Negan asked as Spencer held up the bottle. 

You weren't very pleased with the us, but Spencer ignored it- and you- thoroughly. 

"We haven't officially met. I'm Spencer Monroe. Hi." he declared with a slight smile. Negan glanced down at you with a smile and reached forward for the bottle. 

"Kid! We're gonna need three glasses out here! Oh, and bring Lucille," Negan called, and led you over and gestured you into one of the chairs on the porch. 

 

 

Oh yeah. These people were definitely trying to kill you. Spencer was being a complete suck up, and one glance from Negan told you just how much he hated it. You shrugged silently, not wanting to condemn the guy, but not wanting to save him from his own bullshit either. He'd been trying to stir up trouble for you and Rick since day one. 

You could have told him it was a bad idea to suck up to everything Negan said, but he hadn't asked you, now had he? And now, Arat was hauling a chair down into the road for you at Negan's insistence while he and Spencer prepared to play a game of pool. 

"I could never do this with Rick. He would just be standing there scowling, giving me that annoying side-eye he gives me. I could do it with the princess there- and no offense, my friend, but I would rather be doing it with her- but I think I'd be too damn distracted every time she bent over. And she took a few hard hits, so she needs the rest," he said with a gesture in your direction. Spencer didn't even look at you, and you saw Negan's eyes narrow slightly as he considered. 

Negan glanced from Spencer to you and you smiled. "I'll play if you want, sugar. Your bitch doesn't hit all that hard, really." 

Arat snorted from nearby and Negan shot her a look before looking back at you. "Just sit your fine ass right there and watch the men at work, darlin'." 

"Don't be a sexist asshole," you said cheerfully, and Negan laughed while Spencer winced. 

"Pool is sexists, princess! But like I said, Ricky-dicky would never do this!" Negan lined up the cue ball while Spencer finished racking the others, and you eyed him and the growing crowd of Alexandrians and Saviors warily. 

Rosita in particular caught your eye, because she was another one who was trying to kill you these days. You glanced up to see Olivia on the porch with Carl at her side, and Carl gave you a worried look as well. 

Man, you hoped Rick got back soon. 

"That's actually what I came to see you about," Spencer said with a smile. "I want to talk to you about Rick." 

Fucker. You closed your eyes and shook your head. This wasn't going to end well, and you knew it. You set down your drink and slid toward the edge of your seat a little, ready to spring upright if you needed to. Negan shot you a quick glance before taking his first shot. 

"All right. Talk to me, Spencer. Talk to me about Rick." 

"I get what you're trying to do here. What you're trying to build. I'm not saying I agree with your methods, but I get it. You're building a network. You're making people contribute for the greater good. It makes sense." 

Negan sunk two balls while Spencer talked and you got more and more tense. Spencer thought he was some great damn politician because he was his mother's son, but he had a long way to go before he reached his mother's level. Deanna could read people; she'd have read the warning in Negan's tone when he'd told Spencer to talk. She'd have seen the glances Negan threw from Spencer to you, the tiny smirk on his face and the faint distaste in his eyes. 

She'd have know that Negan's over-friendliness was really a lack of anything remotely resembling respect. 

Spencer shot a glance at you as he paused, and you gave him a warning shake of your head. Back off, idiot, before you get someone killed. He just sniffed and turned back to Negan, his agreeable face back in place. 

"But you should know that Rick Grimes has a history of not working well with others. YN as well." 

You chuckled as Negan looked at you. Spencer's jaw tightened at the sound, and you shrugged. "He's not wrong," was all you said. 

Negan worked his way around the table to stand at Spencer's side and sink another shot. "Hmm," he said. "Is that so?" 

Then he missed his next shot, and Spencer stepped up. You rose, trying to make it an idle gesture, but shit was about to go down and you knew it. 

"Rick wasn't the original leader here," Spencer said. "My mom was. She was doing a really good job of it. Then she died, not long after Rick and his people showed up- same with my brother, same with my dad." 

Seriously? You were really starting to hate this guy. His brother had died because he was an overconfident moron. His dad- well, that had been someone else's fault, but you carried the weight of it with you all the same. You should have taken out Pete before he had a chance to cut Reg's throat. And hell, you'd taken Pete out. Spencer should be thanking you. 

"So everything was peachy here for what? Years? And then Rick shows up, and suddenly, you're an orphan? Rick kill your family?" Negan asked. 

"Directly? No," Spencer said. "But his leadership led to their deaths." 

"Oh please. Aiden got himself killed by walkers because he was an idiot and a coward. Reg was an accident and I avenged him for you, you ass, and your mother was bit when the whole damn town was overrun. The tower falling was hardly Rick's fault!" you exploded, and Negan gave you an amused look. 

"Seems the princess here disagrees with your assessment. Good thing for you, though, Rick's not in charge anymore," Negan answered. 

"Doesn't matter," Spencer said promptly. "Doesn't matter what she says, either. She's just as bad as he is- maybe worse. Rick's ego's out of control, and she's just a menace. He'll find a way to screw things up, try and do things his way, to take over- and she'll carry it out. That's what they did to my mom." 

Negan looked at you. "I have got to hear this story. That is the second time someone has told me the two of you took over." 

You shrugged. "It's not that interesting. Killed some walkers that got in because this guy didn't make sure the gate was closed like he was supposed to, brought their heads to a group meeting. Had some out of control wife beater threaten me. Spencer's dad got killed by the wife beater while he was trying to help; I killed the wife beater." 

"Heads? Goddamn, you are fascinating, princess," Negan drawled. 

Spencer slammed his stick into the cue ball a little harder than necessary, and Negan took a long sip of his drink while Spencer muttered. "He'll do it again." 

"What exactly are you proposing be done about that?" Negan asked him, and you sighed. 

This was is. This was Spencer's moment to back pedal rapidly. But he wasn't going to.   
"I am my mother's son. I can be the leader she was," he said firmly. 

You couldn't help it. You laughed outright. Negan's eyebrow went up, and he gestured in your direction. 

"Princess doesn't think so," he said dryly. 

"She doesn't know anything about leadership. She's just a killer," Spencer snapped. "This place? You? You need a leader, not somebody with a bunch of blood on their hands." 

"So I should put you in charge. That's what you're saying?" Negan said, smiling at Spencer, and you stifled a groan. 

Abort, abort, abort, asshole. 

"We'd be much better off," Spencer said with a smile back and a nod. 

How could he not see? How was he this blind? You were tightly coiled, waiting as Negan wound his way around the table to take his next shot. Spencer followed him, standing back a little. You leaned your hip against the pool table as Negan lined up his next shot, and he winked at you before he began to speak. 

"You know, Spencer, I'm thinking how Rick threatened to kill me, how he clearly hates my guts." 

Spencer's smile grew, like he was winning something here, and you finally gave up wondering how he could be so stupid. He just was, and you were fairly certain he was going to die for it. 

"But Rick is out there right now, gathering shit for me to make sure I don't hurt any of the fine people that live here. YN here asks questions and is so polite even though I know she would rather spit down my slit throat, but she does it all the same- to keep your ass alive and unharmed. They are swallowing their hate and getting shit done. She even told me when I had insulted Olivia there, and pointed out that I should apologize! That takes guts," he said with a smirk in your direction, bending to take another shot. 

You reached out and lifted his glass to your lips, and he made a noise of appreciation as you took a sip, then looked at Spencer and laid down his stick. 

"And then there's you," he said, moving closer. "The guy who waited for Rick to be gone so he could sneak over and talk to me, to get me to do his dirty work so he could take Rick's place. And you aren't even looking at the princess there, who you are trying to bone just as surely as I am, if only in a completely metaphorical sense. So I gotta ask, if you wanna take over, why not just kill Rick yourself and just take over?" 

"She'd kill me," Spencer snapped. "And I didn't- I don't-" 

"Oh yes, she would," Negan crowed. "You know what I'm thinking? 'Cause I have a guess." 

"He doesn't have the guts," you said calmly, and Negan turned to look at you. You saw it in his eyes, and you calculated what you could do for a split second. 

The answer was simple. Nothing. 

"That's right. You've got no guts," Negan said with a smile, turning back to Spencer, and then he sank a knife- your knife- into Spencer's stomach and ripped him open. 

Spencer stared and the Alexandrians gasped as Spencer's blood and guts fell out on the road. You pushed off from the pool table and walked over to Negan's side, holding Negan's glass in your hand, and looked down at Spencer's body with one eyebrow raised. 

"How embarrassing," Negan commented. "There they are. They were inside you the whole time. You did have guts. I've never been so wrong in my whole life!" 

"That's enough grandstanding, don't you think?" you cut him off firmly, handing him his drink. The faces around you were shocked and terrified, and you needed to do something quickly to get this asshole in check before somebody did something stupid. Negan took the glass from you and walked toward the pool table with a chuckle. 

You looked out, meeting as many eyes as you could, and shaking your head. "It's ok," you started, but Negan cut you off and you whipped around to glare at him. 

"Now someone oughta get up here and clean this mess up," he said. "And you should sit back down, princess." 

"You told me I could reassure my people. You just eviscerated someone in front of them," you snapped, crossing your arms. "It's the first evisceration some of them have seen. They're a little upset about it." 

He chuckled at you. "Fine. Talk to them. But first-" he held up the bat and swung it out at the crowd. "Anyone want to finish the game? Anybody? C'mon! I was winning!" 

You saw Rosita's face and suddenly, you knew she had a bullet. You saw the way she twitched, and you snapped her name. "Rosita! No!" 

Negan swung to look from you to her, and Rosita pulled the gun and fired. 

Motherfucker.


	42. Flesh Eater Formerly Known As

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
> cannon divergence  
> past rape/non con

You didn't know if it was lucky or not, but she missed. You were moving in a heartbeat, to put her on the ground, but Chip-on-her-shoulder Arat- apparently desperate to show her worth- got there before you, and you froze when Negan grabbed your arm and pulled you to a stop. 

"Do not move another inch, princess!" he snarled, and you went cold at his tone. He was pissed like you hadn't heard him pissed before. You knew immediately that no matter how much he wanted to fuck you, you had no leverage right now. There was nothing you could do about what was going to come next except pray. 

"Shit! What the shit! You just- shit! You tried to kill me?" Negan roared, and this was real. It was real and he fucking terrifying. "You shot Lucille!" 

"She got in the way!" Rosita spat out, and you realized Arat had a knife at her throat. Your knife, you realized suddenly, that she'd scooped off the ground beside Spencer. 

You were looking at the bullet, and you bent slowly and lifted it. Negan was drawing in slow deep breaths, clearly trying to hold on to something- rage or sanity, you honestly weren't sure which. 

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he roared at you, and you held the casing up between two fingers. 

"This was made from scratch," you said. 

Fucking hell. Absolutely fucking hell. 

You had one chance to keep everyone here alive. One. And you had no idea how to go about doing it. 

 

Negan plucked the thing out of your hand and stared at it, then at you. 

"Look at those crimps. This thing was homemade," he turned to Rosita, and his eyes were hard. "You may be stupid, darlin', but you showed some real ingenuity here. Arat, put that knife on the girl's face. Lucille's beautiful smooth surface is never gonna look the same, so why should yours?" He yelled down at her, and Arat grinned as she put your blade to Rosita's cheek. 

You stepped into Negan's path as he paced. "Leave her alone," you said softly. "Please." 

"Why," he asked you, soft and dangerous, "the goddamn hell would I do that?" 

"You can have me instead. Do whatever you want as punishment. She's one of my people; I should have kept a better eye on her. I should have known," you answered immediately. "I have absolutely no idea where she got the gun, and I should know." 

"Oh princess, I will do whatever I want to you, but not today. Not for her sins. Arat, cut the girl,"he snapped, then paused. "Unless you tell me who made this." 

"I did," Rosita snarled, and you sighed. You knew better. 

"You see, now I just think you're lyin'. And you, lying to me now? Is a very bad idea. Arat, cut up her pretty face!" 

You moved, knocking Arat aside and getting between Negan and Rosita. You didn't care if you died here, you were not standing by and letting one of your own get hurt. Negan's eyes narrowed and he stalked forward, using the bat to force your chin up. Arat rose slowly, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth and coming to your side. 

"Boss?" she asked as Negan stared into your eyes without saying a word. 

"You are a badass, aren't you?" he snarled at you. "Sweetheart, I do not care how hot a piece of tail you are, you do not get between my people and my orders!" 

"Guess it's a good thing I'm not just a piece of tail isn't it?" you said back quietly, not cowed at all. "She isn't the one. I know who made the bullet." 

"Do you, now? Fine," he said quietly. "Arat? Cut her." 

You stood still as Arat smiled and slid closer, flipping your own knife in between her fingers. You met Negan's eyes beyond Arat as she drug the knife slowly over your cheek, flat against it. 

"Is this punishment or foreplay?" you asked, quirking an eyebrow. 

Negan laughed, and you felt an instant's relief. "Oh princess. It's both," he answered with a leer, and tapped Arat on the shoulder. "Give me the knife." 

Arat scoffed and handed it to him, and he looked at it for a long moment. 

"I should put this right through your eyeball, darlin', for getting in my way." 

"Do it then," you snapped, tired of this. "Your bitch over there already beat the shit out of me today. I'll take whatever punishment you can dream up."

Negan chuckled softly, and touched the knife to your lips. "Now, you know running this mouth usually turns me the fuck on, princess, but now-" 

"Negan!" 

It was Rick's voice, and you couldn't help the relief that flushed through you. Negan, looking down into your eyes, saw it and chuckled. You tried to jerk away but he wouldn't let you. 

"We had a deal!" Rick yelled, and then he was beside you, his hand on your shoulder. "You alright, YN?" 

"Rick! Don't- don't speak to her. How about a thank you? I mean, I know we started this relationship with me beating the holy shit out of your friends, and because of that we're never going to sit around and braid each other's hair or tell each other our deepest, darkest secrets, but how about a little credit? I bend over backwards to show you how reasonable I am! I mean, your kid?" Negan pointed toward Carl with the knife that had been at your lips. "He hid in one of my trucks and machine-gunned a bunch of my men down, and I brought him home, safe and sound, and I made him spaghetti!" 

Rick's eyes widened and his head whipped around to Carl, and you'd have laughed at the classic angry-dad look you'd seen in his eyes if you weren't fairly certain you were perilously close to dying over here. 

"Another one of your people, wellm, he wanted me to kill you and put him in charge. I took him out... For you. Another one, here- she shot Lucille, trying to kill me just now. And this fine ass woman with balls of steel put herself between me and her, and I haven't killed her yet, so I ask you, Rick. How about a thank you?" 

Rick looked at you, eyes flicking over the bruises on your face and lingering on Negan's grip on your arm. "What you'd do to her? Is that payment enough?" 

"Me? I did not lay a hand on her. Arat did, and that is the only reason why she's not dead on the ground for getting between me and your trigger happy little hellcat over there," Negan replied. 

Rick looked down at Rosita and then at Spencer's body. He stared at the pool table for a second before meeting Negan's eyes. "Your shit's waiting for you at the gate. Just go." 

Negan chuckled. "Sure thing, Ricky-dicky. Right after I find the guy or gal that made this bullet." 

You closed your eyes for a long moment. "Would you believe me if I said it was me?" 

"Hell no, princess. But I believe you'll tell me who it was in just a moment. Arat. Find a gun," Negan ordered, and Arat grinned. 

"Stop this, Negan. Just take it out on me. I won't give you one of my people," you whispered, desperate. "I won't sacrifice them to you. I've seen what you've done to Daryl. Just take me instead. I'll warm your damn bed if that's what you want, just leave my people alone!" You jerked your arm from Negan's grip and spun around standing toe to toe with him and not looking at Rick. 

You couldn't look at Rick. You couldn't look at Carl or Tara or any of them. 

You only had this one last play, this one thing that the asshole might want more than bullets, and if you looked at any of them- Rick or Carl especially- you wouldn't be able to go through with it. And if you didn't give everything you had to keep them safe, you'd never be able to live with yourself. 

"YN, no," Rick said, reaching for your arm, but Negan slapped his hand down. 

"Now, that is an interesting offer, princess. Are you telling me that you come marry me to keep your people safe?" he drawled, smirking at you. You drew in a breath, shoving down the rising tide of panic that wanted to sweep you up and under and leave you a shakig, crying mess. Now was not the time, and you couldn't afford to think about-

-your face, hitting a table with someone's fingers tangled in your hair; hands holding your hips in place so hard they left finger print bruises on your skin; the sound of a zipper and Maggie's choked back sobs- 

No. No. It'd been too long, and this was too important. You shoved it all away, pushing it deep under layers of locked and bolted psychological doors, and locked eyes with the smirking asshole threatening your family. You opened your mouth and- 

"No. It was me. It was only me." 

Eugene. 

 

He left. He took Eugene and whatever Rick had dropped at the gate, and left you with a banged up face, a beaten up Aaron, a pissed off Rosita, zombie Spencer, and a serious of threats about how deep a hole your group was in over this day. 

Oh, and your knife. He left you your knife, so you supposed you were grateful for that. 

You dropped the flesh eater formerly known as Spencer and then walked right by everyone- right by Rick, looking around and clearly trying to figure out what the hell to do, what had happened; right by Carl, calling after you to see if you were ok; right by Tara and Rosita and Tobin's anxious faces. You ignored them all, knife held loosely in your hand, and slammed the door of your house behind you. 

On the other side, you dropped the knife to the floor and toed out of your boots. There was blood and guts and dirt all the fuck over them, and you didn't want that shit any further in the house than it had to be. You made it to the bedroom you shared with Daryl- a bedroom you hadn't been in for longer than it took to grab clean clothes in days- before you started to shake. 

Once the shaking started you knew it was going to be downhill, fast. You forced yourself out of your bloody clothes. Somehow they were always bloody, and maybe if you got them in some cold water right now you could save this tank, but you didn't have the energy to really give a shit about that right now. Not when the tears were starting to burn in your eyes, and you suddenly weren't sure whose voice was ringing in your ears, Negan's or the Governor's or your ex's from a lifetime and few thousand dead ago. 

You pulled on one of Daryl's shirts, sleeves already ripped out and tattered at the shoulders, and collapsed onto the pile of blankets and pillows where your mattress used to be. You'd been sleeping on the couch since the morning you'd woken up to the sound of Daryl's bike, but right now? Right now you wanted to be wrapped in his scent, to pretend- just until you got your shit together- that he was here with you. Just pretend, for a moment. 

And then you couldn't breathe, as it swept you under. You cried and shook and relieved every nightmare moment you'd ever experienced- hands on your throat and in your hair and pain everywhere; that damn table; Shane screaming at you in a darkened hallway; Negan's face as he swung that damn bat around and threatened to cut Rosita's face; the Governor pulling your hair and making you fall out of the truck; your face, slamming into the table-

Until finally, you slept.


	43. We'll Go Be Dumbasses Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> mentions of past rape/non con

There was someone in your house. 

Your eyes snapped open and you rose to your feet rapidly, snatching up your bow and padding barefoot into the hallway. You had an arrow drawn and aimed as you slipped down the stairs, not knowing why you knew someone was there. It was morning, early morning judging by the light, and your heart was pounding as you came around the corner into the kitchen and- 

"Son of a bitch!" you snapped, dropping your bow. 

Rick and Carl looked up at you, and Judith clapped her hands. 

"What the hell, guys?" you muttered, rubbing a hand over your eyes. 

"We need to talk," Rick said simply. "Go put some more clothes on. Please." 

You looked down and realized you were just in Daryl's shirt, then you snorted a little, amused. It covered everything essential, but not a lot else, and Rick was looking firmly at the wall level with your ear, while Carl was looking fixedly at Judith with a faint blush on his cheeks. You thought about teasing them both, but after Negan and the night you'd had, you just didn't have the energy for that. 

"Rick, there better be a good reason you're all in my damn house this early!" you bitched instead as you headed back up the stairs. 

 

Dressed, hair back up, and strip of clean sheet from the linen closet in your hand to replace the bandage on your arm, you traipsed back into your kitchen. 

"Cowboy, can you help me change this damn thing, I- what the fuck," you cut off. "Where are you all coming from, damn it?" 

Now Michonne, Tara, and Rosita had joined Rick and Carl, and you huffed out a breath. 

"What's going on, Cowboy?" you asked as Carl unrolled the bloody bandage from your arm and pressed lightly over the stitches. You glanced from the people in your kitchen to your arm. The stitches were neat and clean and you nodded in approval as Carl took the fabric out of your hands and rewrapped the cut. Hell, this one probably wouldn't even scar. 

"We're going to war," Rick answered, and your eyes whipped to him. He nodded, once, and it was him again. It was your crazy motherfucking Cowboy, and you felt yourself smiling. 

"It's about damn time," you said grimly, and he nodded. 

"I know. It took you standing there offering to go with him, but- I'm ready." 

"Don't do that again," Carl added. "Do you know what Daryl would do to us if you did that? Shit." 

"Language, Carl," Michonne and Rick muttered together, and you started laughing and didn't stop for awhile. 

 

"Are you mad at me?" Carl's voice was quiet beside you as you walked to the Hilltop. You'd left the cars behind in the woods a bit back, not wanting to give away your presence if Negan's people came to the Hilltop while you were there. 

"What?" you asked, surprised. 'Why would I be?" 

"I promised I'd wait. I put you and everyone else in danger. I got you hurt. I got Spencer killed," he said with a shrug. 

"Hey, Grimes? Were you a dumbass? Hell yes. Is my getting beat up on or Spencer dying on your shoulders? Hell no. I'm too glad you're ok to be mad at you, kiddo," you told him seriously, flicking the brim on his hat. 

He smiled at you gratefully. "I promise not be a dumbass anymore." 

You laughed. "No, you don't. We're all about to go be dumbasses together." 

 

You saw Maggie first, standing there over the repaired gates. When they opened slowly a few minutes later, she was waiting for you, her smile beaming bright as you strode into the Hilltop. Rick reached her first, and you hung back between Carl and Michonne. Tara and Rosita were silent behind you, but it was happening. You were here for a council of war, and Gregory the prick was going to listen to you. 

You hoped Jesus was back as well, because you were going to need that ninja. 

"You're ok?" Rick whispered as he held Maggie tightly. 

"I'm ok," she answered, letting him go. "The baby's ok. All of us are. YN, Carl, glad you're safe. Don't do that again." 

"Yes, ma'am," Carl murmured. 

"You were right," Rick told Maggie. "Right from the start. You told us to get ready to fight. I didn't listen, and I couldn't. Cost us a lot. About cost her more," he said with a nod toward you. 

"Rick," you muttered, annoyed, and he shot you a look. 

"It's true. I can now. I can listen now." 

"Rick," Maggie said, interrupting him. "There's something I need to tell you all-" 

"YN!" 

What? What? 

You spun around at the sound of your name, and- 

There he was, frozen in place the same as you. 

"Daryl?" you whispered, not believing what you were seeing. "Daryl?" 

And then he was striding toward you as you stared at him, until he was close enough to touch if you just reached out and- 

 

You were pressed against him, his arms so tight around you air was a distant memory, and he had one hand on the back of your head and the other gripping your shirt at your side. Your face was on his chest and his forehead was pressed to your shoulder and you were pretty sure you were both crying. Someone was whispering 'thank God, thank God, thank God' over and over and you weren't sure, but it might have been you. 

"Thank Jesus, not God, girlie," another voice drawled out and you froze again. Slowly, painfully, you lifted your head from Daryl's chest, and you felt him release you just enough so you could pull back and look up into- 

"Come on then, little sister? Where's my hug?" Merle said with a shit eating grin and you laughed. 

You laughed, holding onto Daryl and looking at Merle and all three of you looked like you'd been beat to hell and back a few times recently. But you were there and you were alive, and that was all that mattered. 

Fucking Negan wouldn't know what hit him, when your people went to war. 

 

Tearful reunions, no matter how desperately you needed them, were going to have to wait. Gregory was going to be a dick, and there was a war about to be launched after all. There was, however, a round of hugging. You were passed from Daryl's arms to Merle's, and he held you just as long and just as close as Daryl did, and you cried a little more. When Rick muttered that it was his turn to hug this redneck asshole, you laughed and let go of Merle, and turned to the third face to join you. 

"I can't ever thank you enough," you whispered into Ninja Jesus' ear, and he rubbed your back gently for a minute. 

"I hardly did anything," he said with a shrug, and you suspected that was a serious understatement, but then Rick was turning to him. 

"You made this happen?" he asked, and you were surprised by the tears in his eyes. 

"I went with YN, after Carl. She asked me to, ah- 'ninja my way in and see if I could pull off any miracles'," he said with a faint smile in your direction. 

"Well, I think this qualifies," Rick said, extending a hand. 

 

Gregory was a dick and refused to help. You supposed you shouldn't have been surprised, all things considered, but you were angry. So angry it was only the fact that you were under Daryl's arm and clinging to Merle's hand that kept the asshole alive, especially when he started smarting off to Maggie and Rick. 

Neither of your boys were willing to let go of you, and to be fair, you weren't complaining. You'd missed the hell out of them, and even knowing Merle was alive hadn't eased the swirling hole of darkness you'd been living with deep inside. Now, with them safe and in your reach- things were finally, finally starting to settle. All you wanted was to go home, to your little house in Alexandria, and bitch at the two of them about picking up their shit and glance at Carol and roll your eyes fondly each other as they scowled and complained about being forced to wear clean clothes. You wanted to curl up on the couch in Daryl's lap with a glass of Merle's latest attempt at moonshine, brewed in attic despite your loud and violent objections, and just listen to Merle telling obviously embellished stories about his and Daryl's misadventures to an amused tolerant Carol, while Daryl alternated between whispering the real story in your ear and having loud arguments with Merle about what really happened. 

You wanted to drag Daryl into your bedroom- not that it ever really took much dragging- and look him over carefully and thoroughly to make sure he was really ok. You wanted to clean and check what you could already see while he scowled at you and tried to tell you he was fine. You wanted to run your hands over every inch of him and hold him tight and tell him how fuckin' terrified you were, and- 

Enid wasn't in the room. About two seconds after you realized that, she opened the door and innocently informed everyone that there were a bunch of Hilltop residents gathered outside who wanted to learn so they could fight the Saviors. Jesus looked over at you when you started laughing, and he started to chuckle as well. 

 

It still wouldn't be enough, but it was a start. 

"We need more people. He's too spread out with those outposts," you commented.

"We get the right stuff, it won't matter. Blow 'em up, burn 'em down," Daryl growled. 

"Thought you said there were other people there, workers and such," Tara said anxiously. 

You shrugged. You didn't give a shit about any workers that were there. Negan had to die. "We have to win," you said simply. 

"We have to get back. Negan comes looking for them, we need to be there," Rick said grimly. "Daryl, Merle, you have to stay here." 

"No!" The word was ripped out of you, and you heard the pure panic in it as if from a distance. Rick turned sympathetic eyes on you even as you felt Merle's hand on your shoulder. Daryl was warm against your side, his hand in yours. 

"Easy, little sister," Merle said, squeezing your shoulder. "Rick's right. It's the first place he'll look for us. He knows we just wanna go home." 

There were tears in your eyes. "Fine. I'll stay here. I'm not leaving you." 

"Naw, woman," Daryl said quietly, at the same time Rick started speaking. 

"No, YN. He's going to be looking for you. Especially after-" Rick cut off and Daryl tensed beside you. 

"After what?" he growled, and you sighed. 

"After I offered to go with him to keep our people safe," you snapped, annoyed. "Dixon, listen- I didn't-" 

"I ain't mad," he cut you off, his hand tightening on yours. "Not at you. I knew you'd do it if it came down to that. S'why I tried so damn hard to get out. That or opt out so I wasn't a factor anymore. I know what you did for Maggie, you think I expect ya to do any less when he's killin' people?" 

You were trembling, tears springing into your eyes, because you had been afraid he'd be angry. You'd been afraid he'd hate you for even considering it. You should have known he'd understand; that he'd see you offering yourself to Negan as the same as you pulling the Governor's attention away from Maggie. It was just, the way things had been between you- the things he'd said after Beth, about you and Rick and Merle- 

You'd been afraid, especially since he'd been with Negan. No knowing what that asshole had been telling him. 

Instead, he pulled you close and turned the two of you so you were angled away from the group and started whispering in your ear that he understood what it cost you to even make the offer, and he wanted the asshole's head for that alone. You held on and listened until you could draw an even breath. 

"You don't have to get back. Not yet," Jesus said when you and Daryl turned back to the anxious eyes of the group. He held up a radio. "One of theirs. Long range." 

You grinned. "Ninja Jesus! You are a miracle worker! But if we're not going back, what are we doing?" 

"I think it's time to introduce you to Ezekiel. King Ezekiel." 

"King?" you and Rick said at the same time, with the same tone.


	44. Tigers and Axes and Dixon Discussions, Oh My!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> brief mild self-harm  
> brief mention of miscarriage/pregnancy loss

Cue the arguments over who was going. 

When they'd gone on too long, you'd simply yelled over everyone, grabbed Jesus, and headed for the door. If they were coming, they'd follow. If the weren't, they wouldn't. You were tired of telling people what they could and could not do. 

You spent the ride as in a happy Dixon sandwich, with Daryl on one side and Merle on the other; Rick and Jesus in the front seats. Carl, Michonne, Sasha, Rosita, and Tara all piled into another car, and Maggie and Enid opted to stay at the Hilltop, thank God. The level of anxiety Maggie's safety was giving you was making you think you maybe owed Dixon an apology for how you'd been those weeks before you'd lost the baby. 

"So- it's called the Kingdom?" Rick said as you piled out where Jesus told you to stop, and you heard the distaste in Rick's voice. 

Jesus, who had answered repeated questions with very, very little information, sighed. "Yeah. I didn't name it." 

You snorted. "How much farther?" 

"Technically, we're already here. I mean, we're always here. But here we are. At the Kingdom. It's outer edge." 

"What's up, Ninja? You're babbling," you said, eyeing him a little.

"Nothing," he answered, and that made you narrow your eyes. "We're just waiting on them." And he pointed into the distance. 

You looked behind you and blinked. Two dudes in some kind of body armor- and oh God you were going to need to get your hands on some of your own, hot damn- and on horses were riding toward you. Horses. As they approached, one of them pointed what looked like a spear and started yelling. 

"Who dares to trespass on the sovereign land of the- oh shit. Jesus, is that you?" 

You started laughing as Jesus just smirked at the guy. 

 

In the end, after a conversation that was more about subtext than actual words, Richard agreed to let you all in as long as you gave up your guns and left the cars behind. That wasn't hard, seeing as how there were only two guns among you. Currently possessed by the Grimes boys, and you had some questions about that distribution of firepower, but whatever.

If the Hilltop had seemed like a paradise when you walked in, the Kingdom must have been heaven on earth. Gardens were everywhere and so were people- running in what was obviously a training group, doing laundry, tending those abundant gardens. There were children and older people and the bustle of a thriving community. 

"They have the numbers," you observed. 

"But can they fight?" Rosita shot back, and you were already tired of her attitude. 

"Oh, they can fight," Ninja Jesus said smugly, and as you eyed the group running in formation, you had to agree with him. 

Tara saw the Monk first, and you and Rick exchanged surprised glances as the hugging started. You, Rick, and the Dixons held back, and Richard asked how your people knew Morgan. 

"We go back to the start," Rick answered. 

All you cared about was whether or not he'd found Carol, but asking would have meant explaining to your boys that something had happened to her. Merle didn't know any of what had happened while he was gone- Carol moving out of your house and into Tobin's, the way she'd become super distant, anything that had happened with the outpost- and neither of them knew about her leaving. 

Being reminded that Daryl didn't know she'd run off reminded you of waking up alone to the sound of his bike's engine, and you flinched a little at the memory. With everything that had happened since then, you'd almost forgotten how you'd left things between you. 

"Well, the King is ready to see you," Richard declared grandly, and you really weren't sure if you were excited or scared to meet this guy. 

You knew he was going to present you with some opportunities for entertainment. 

"Did you find Carol?" Rick asked in a low voice, and the two Dixon brothers tensed and looked at you. 

"I did," the Monk answered, and you gave your Dixons looks that said you'd fill them in later. 

"Is she ok?" you asked. 

"She was here. Then she left. She wasn't too happy, me following her. She wanted to get away from us, from everyone." 

"Why the hell she want that?" Daryl exploded. You grabbed his hand and he gripped it back, hard. Carol had been his friend before you'd ever joined them, and her distance had bothered him as much as it had bothered you. 

"I don't know," the Monk said. "But when I'd found her, she'd been shot. Just a graze, and I got her back here and the doctors patched her up." 

"Was it them?" Daryl asked. You didn't need to ask to know who he meant. 

Morgan nodded. "One of them tried to kill her, but I stopped him. I killed him." 

Well, holy shit. Guess you were glad he'd gone after her after all. 

Merle was silent beside you, and you reached out and gave his hand a squeeze as the Monk continued. 

"Carol was here. She got help. Now she's gone." 

 

 

He had a tiger. 

He had feathers in his dreadlocks, robes, a bodyguard with a strangely cheerful smile and a double-bladed ax you wanted to play with so bad, and oh, yeah- a tiger. 

"Jesus! It pleases me to see you, old friend!" The king called, and you didn't know if you wanted to laugh or applaud. He even had the voice to go with the throne, the scepter, the fucking big cat on a chain. 

Oh this was going to be so much fun. 

It took you all of two seconds to decide you were going to make him speak to you like a normal person, because this act was so obviously just that- an act. 

"It pleases him, indeed!" the dude with the ax called, and you were grinning openly. 

"Jerry," the king said in warning. "Tell me, what news do you bring good King Ezekiel? Are these new allies you've brought me?" 

You had a feeling you and Jerry were going to be good friends, you decided as Jerry continued to grin. 

"Indeed they are, your majesty," Jesus answered with a dip of his head, and your grin was struggling not to become giggles. You started walked up behind him, leaving everyone else crowded in the doorway where they'd all frozen, including Daryl and Merle. 

You supposed the tiger was a bit of a shock. 

"This is-" Jesus turned and saw that you were the only one behind him, and he saw the look in your eyes. 

"He has a tiger," you said quietly, and Jesus shot you a 'please behave' look that you ignored. You glanced back at Rick and the others. "Cowboy, he has-" 

"Yeah, a tiger," Rick said, deadpan, and the tiger chose that moment to roar. 

You couldn't help it; you started laughing. Jesus rolled his eyes toward heaven and grabbed your arm, hard. 

"This is Rick Grimes, the leader of Alexandria, and these are some of his people," Jesus told the king.

You promptly shook Jesus' hand off your arm and pushed past him to head up toward the stage the king had set up as a throne room. You admired the impact it made, thinking that whoever this guy was, he might just give Rick Dramatic Son of a Bitch Grimes a run for his title. 

"Hi, I'm YN, YN Dixon," you told the king. "You have a tiger. And a badass ax on your bodyguard there, but let's focus on the tiger for a moment. How likely am I to get eaten right now?" 

King Ezekiel blinked at you for a moment, and you held his gaze until he smiled. "I welcome you all to the Kingdom, good travelers. I can assure you, fair lady, you are perfectly safe from Shiva. What brings you to our fair land? Why do you seek an audience with the king?" 

Oh, he was good. You started placing mental bets on who he was before the world ended. Actor, maybe. Politician didn't seem right. For starters, the tiger. For another, he was lordly, but not arrogant. Not really. Every bit of it was just an affectation. 

You wondered if he could turn it off anymore, his King Ezekiel role. You wondered what had happened to make him take it up to begin with. 

"Ezekiel.... King Ezekiel," Rick started, and you finally looked away from the king- and the tiger, who was beautiful and wild and fucking fascinating- to notice your people spreading out through the room a little. 

Jesus, Daryl, and Merle all had their eyes fixed on you, but none of them had the same expression. Jesus was looking at you like he wasn't sure if he wanted to join you in or stop you from whatever you might do next, and you flashed him a mischievous grin. His expression grew more pained. Daryl was looking at you with worry and amusement, like he knew you were going to get in there and mess things up and he wasn't about to stop you. Merle just looked like he wanted to pull you as far away from the tiger as you could get. 

You smiled at Merle reassuringly as Rick continued, his speech voice starting to fire up as he got over his shock at the tiger's presence. Jesus really should have warned your people, but you were almost more happy he didn't. You'd be able to get away with some shit because he hadn't, and you'd take whatever opening you could get. 

"Alexandria, the Hilltop, the Kingdom- all three of our communities have something in common. We all serve the Saviors. Alexandria already fought them once, and we won." 

Well, that was debatable, but you knew what he meant. You turned your eyes back to the king and saw Richard and the Monk at his side. Richard was watching Ezekiel, and you knew Richard wanted to fight them. Ezekiel didn't. Hmm. 

"We thought we took out the threat, but we didn't know then what we know now. We only beat one outpost. We've been told you have a deal with them; that you know them. Then you know they rule through violence and fear." 

Rick had picked up speed on his speech now, but you watched as the King's eyes narrowed slightly at Jesus. Shit, Jesus had fucked up. 

"Your Majesty, I only told them of the-" Jesus started, and Ezekiel cut him off. 

"Our deal with the Saviors is not known among my people- for good cause. We made you a party to that secret when you told us of the Hilltop's own travails, but we did not expect you to share-" 

"We can help each other!" Jesus cut in. 

"Don't interrupt the king," Jerry said, glaring a little at Jesus. Frankly, he wasn't very good at it. He was much more suited to grinning and making jokes.

You sighed and stepped in- literally. You sauntered over to Jesus' side and smiled prettily at Ezekiel. "Apologies, Your Majesty. Ninja Jesus here is one of the best secret-keepers in the game. He only told us about your existence when we made our plans this morning." 

"Why do you address him as Ninja Jesus?" the king asked, his brow furrowed slightly. Jerry grinned and mouthed 'right on' when you shrugged. 

"Have you seen him? He's totally a ninja. And so far, he's not done wrong by us. Well, there was the truck full of supplies that ended up in the lake, but that wasn't entirely his fault. Not really. Look, Your Majesty, I'm just a simple country girl from Georgia. Kings aren't exactly my specialty, and frankly? I'm probably the best at all this bowing and scraping shit you're going to get out of this group. Rick's our leader and he's a good man. But we've spent more time outside of walls than inside them, so we're a pretty brutal, blunt, and when necessary, violent lot. We have plans, and we'd like you to hear them out."

"And what exactly are your plans, YN of Alexandria?" the king asked, and you thought you saw faint amusement in his eyes.

"You left out the Dixon. The dramatic effect is better if you use their full name," you said, and was that a smile you detected? You believed it was. "We're going to wipe the fucking floor with Negan and his assholes. We came to ask for your help," you said bluntly. 

His entire entourage exchanged looks, including the kid who couldn't have been that much older than Carl. They started to stir, and you got the feeling there was more dissent among the rabble than Ezekiel would probably like to believe. 

"And now that I've seen you, I plan on asking if you have some more armor, if I can have a go with Jerry's badass battle ax, and what the story is behind the tiger, because my dude- this whole setup you have? Is awesome," you added, completely unable to help yourself. 

You heard twin sighs from behind you that probably came from Jesus and Rick, if you had to guess. Jerry grinned and flashed you a thumbs up and you grinned back. 

"What you are asking is very serious," the king said. "Jerry, please," he added in a pained voice as Jerry lifted the ax and swung it a little at you. 

"Several of our people- good people- were killed by the Saviors, brutally," you said, voice going grim. 

"Who?" the Monk asked suddenly, stepping forward. It occurred to you that he wouldn't know. He wouldn't know anything of what had happened after he left to find Carol. You glanced at him. 

"Glenn. Abraham. Spencer. He took Eugene hostage on his last visit. He had Daryl, but Jesus got Daryl and Merle out," you told him. 

"Did they do that to your face, my lady?" the King asked, nodding in your direction. At first you were slightly offended, not knowing what he was talking about, and then you remembered the bruises on your jaw and your eye. Oh yeah. That had happened. 

You looked back at him, considering how to answer. "Yes, but that was more because I smarted off to the wrong person. Negan didn't do this, one of his people did, Though Negan does want to make me his wife. One of many," you said with a shiver. 

"Negan beat Glenn and Abraham to death to make a point," Rick said. 

"Terrorized the Hilltop. He set loose walkers just to make a point," Sasha added. You were watching the king's face, trying to get a read on him, but he must have been a master at poker. If there was such a thing as an open book, this guy was the opposite. 

"He didn't just ask my girl to marry him," Daryl growled. "He spent hours walkin' her around on his arm, makin' threats and suggestions. He's a damn predator. Makes people deals they cain't turn down- people's lives in exchange for them in his damn bed. Says he won't tolerate rapists, but he's the worst damn kind. I've seen him burn the shit out of his own people's faces because they did things he didn't like." 

"I used to think the deal was something we could live with," Jesus said. "A lot of us did. But that's changing. So let's change the world, Your Majesty." 

He wasn't going to answer. You finally got a read on him, you thought. Maybe. Rick continued talking, and Richard joined in. But he wasn't going to answer.

When he asked the Monk's opinion, you knew you were screwed. Morgan gave his usual bullshit about life, and then all the sudden the king and the tiger were rising. You shook your head in admiration.

"You do have a flair for the dramatic, don't you? Your Majesty, I don't know what your story is, but I would love to find out," you told him with a grin. He paused for a beat, looking at you like he wasn't quite sure what to do with you. Finally, he decided not to respond to you at all. 

"The hour grows late," Ezekiel declared. "Rick Grimes of Alexandria, you have given the king much to ponder." 

And that was it. No amount of Rick's stories or persuasions were going to change his mind. Rick gave it a good shot, though, with his story about the little girl and the rock in the road. He had Jerry entranced, and he was giving as good a performance as the king's. But it didn't work. 

"I invite you all the sup with us and stay till the morrow." 

"We need to get back home," Rick argued. 

"I shall deliver my decree in the morn." 

Welp, that's all folks. He banged his staff down twice, and that was it for the audience. As your people filed out, you couldn't help but glance back from where you brought up the rear. 

"Hey, Jerry- I wanna take that battle ax for a spin!" you called as you ducked through the door, and Jerry grinned. 

 

 

You had a rough night, the three of you. You and the Dixon boys opted to room all together, though Jesus offered a spot for Merle in his own room. Merle had started to take him up on it, but a quick look between you and Daryl showed the same reluctance for him to be away from you. Besides, you had some serious talking to do. 

As soon as you finished saying goodnight and making plans for in the morning with Rick and closed the door, Daryl turned to you with a scowl. 

"The hell were ya thinking, woman, going there? He already wants ya, and you walked right into his damn arms!" 

"Don't yell at me, Dixon," you'd snapped back, annoyed at being questioned. He didn't know. He didn't know what it'd been like at home, not knowing what was happening with them. And then- 

"It was Carl. I had to go. And what the hell were you thinking, asshole? Fuck me and then run off while I'm asleep on some bullshit revenge crusade and get yourself kidnapped so the next time I see you, you're- you're-" 

All the anger was gone before you were halfway through, and Daryl scooped you up and held you tight when you stumbled over the words. You leaned your forehead to his shoulder, grabbing handfuls of his shirt and trying not to cry as he ran his hand over your hair.

"I'm so sorry, woman. I cain't- I- I'm sorry. I'm such an asshole sometimes," he whispered to you brokenly, and you shook your head against his shoulder without lifting it. 

"No, I am. More'n you realize," he said more firmly. "I lied to ya. Told myself I'd never do that before I ever reached for you the first time, and I kept that promise. Till that burnt fucker shot the doc." 

You pushed up to look at him, swiping a hand over your eyes. "What are you talking about, Dixon?" you asked, confused. 

He looked down at the floor and then met your eyes. "Ya asked about the bottles. I told ya I only I had the one. It wasn't just the one." 

You stared at him for a moment, looking back over the past- holy shit, it was less than two weeks. When you finally realized what he was talking about, you started to laugh. The shame in his eyes was so strong, over that? That? 

He'd been sneaking booze around while he grieved the death of someone in his care, full of blame and self-hatred because he thought it was his fault, and he'd told you he'd only had the one drink. And that was making his face look like it was right then. 

You put your hand gently on his cheek and kissed him, hard. He made a small, desperate noise, and his arms came around you tightly as he kissed back. You broke away before it could get too weird- there was someone else in the room, after all- and stroked his cheek with your fingertips. 

"Idiot," you whispered fondly. "Do you really think I care about that? With everything in between? You left. I couldn't go after you, and Glenn and Michonne and Rosita left. Then Tobin told Rick Carol was gone, and Rick and the Monk left. I had to stay behind. Rick came back, without the Monk or Carol, and then Maggie- Maggie wasn't doing well. Then they left; Rick and Carl and Maggie and Abraham and Eugene and Sasha and Aaron. And it was just me, on the gate, and no one was coming back. I thought- I thought everyone was dead. I thought-" 

You moved away from him, pacing into the room a step or two and seeing Merle watching you closely, his face closed off but eyes angry. You paced back, and Daryl was watching you too. 

"I thought I was all that was left. Just me, the last Dixon standing. Then Rick came back, but still no you. Carl told me you were taken and Glenn and Abraham were dead, and then there was more. That wasn't it. There was Merle. He wasn't dead. So you were both alive, but I was still- I was still alone..." Your voice trailed off as you finally started crying, and Merle reached out and grabbed your hand, pulling you into his lap. You curled into him and cried for awhile. 

 

 

"You're tellin' me you snuck out while she was asleep? After sex? Are you shittin' me, baby brother?" Merle half-yelled it at Daryl, who dropped his head in shame. 

"Hey! Leave him alone!" you yelled back, grabbing Merle's arm. Aside from being a little unhappy that he was discussing your sex life- though at this point, you were fairly certain nearly everyone had discussed your sex life at one point or another- you were the only one who got to yell at Daryl over shit like that. Nobody got to get away with putting that look on his face.

"No, I will not. Ain't nobody treats ya like that, little sister. Not even my asshole brother!" Merle shot back, and you glared. 

"He's right; I deserve it. It was an asshole move," Daryl broke in, touching your arm, and you whirled your glare on him. 

"Yes, it was, but it's not his business! If I want to call you an asshole over it, I can, but no one else gets to!"

It started out as a snort from Merle, but then all three of you were laughing until you cried, and then you were just crying. 

 

 

Merle rehashed his daring escape from the walkers for you, ending with how he got to the Sanctuary. But then he told you in a quiet voice that no matter how hard you pressed, he wasn't going to tell you about most of what he'd seen while he was there. 

"I did what I had to do, darlin', so I could get my ass back home. I been in situations like that before and let 'em break me. But ol' Merle's got a lot more goin' for him now than I did when I was workin' for Uncle Sam, so don't you worry about it none. But I ain't gonna tell you about it neither," he said. "Now get that look outta your eyes, little sister, and tell me how Carl lost one of his." 

 

 

Daryl talked about the cell, in fits and starts and brief glimpses of things. The dog food sandwiches made your blood boil, but it was the picture that had you ready to fucking fight. 

You wondered who had helped Daryl. He said he thought it might have been Sherry, Dwight's former girl turned Negan's wife. You'd asked which one Sherry was, and it turns out it'd been the one comforting the weeping blonde. Merle confirmed that Sherry had helped him out a few times, sneaking him things he'd needed after a beating on occassion.

His eyes had jumped away from you when he said that, and you'd stiffened. "Why were you getting beaten, Merle?" you'd asked in a low voice. 

"Ain't nothin' ol' Merle couldn't handle, darlin'. Don't you worry your pretty head over it," he'd muttered. 

You narrowed your eyes at him, getting pretty tired of being told not to worry about him, and Daryl cut in. 

"He took some shit for tryin' to keep me safe. Dwight told me," he muttered, and the two brothers exchanged a long look, both of them seeming guilt-filled over things. 

"And he punished you over me, didn't he? For you not telling him about me? Goddamn it!" you'd snarled. "I'm going to kill this asshole slowly. I'm going to peel his skin from his body layer by layer and feed it to a damn walker- fuck face Dwight if I get my way- and when it seems like he's ready to die, I'll patch him up and let him heal just enough to start again!" 

Merle was staring at you with raised eyebrows, but Daryl just leaned over and brushed his lips against yours. 

"Shut up, woman," he said, smiling at you faintly. "We're fine. Don't get yourself all worked up till it's time to take him on."

 

 

Basically, there hadn't been much sleeping. 

There had been a hissed version of a Dixon Discussion sometime in the pre-dawn hours about you not leaving them behind again. When you were up in both their faces, whisper-shouting about not being able to lose them with tears in your eyes and your hands shaking, their guilty, sad looks were enough to tip you over the edge yourself. You pressed the nails of one hand into the cut on your arm, suddenly desperately in need of something to ground you, something that hurt, while Daryl and Merle started whisper-screaming back on the end of your tirade. 

Merle was the one who noticed, grabbing your hand as the blood began to soak through the bandage Carl had wrapped that morning. "The hell ya think you're doin', little sister?" he snarled, and Daryl snatched at your other wrist as well. 

They both started yelling at you for other reasons then, as they unwrapped your arm, checked see if you'd popped any stitches- of course not, you were hurting but not a moron, God- and then wrapped it back up. When you got tired of it and fired back at Daryl for the cigarette burns after Beth, Merle'd rounded on him asking what the fuck you were talking about. There'd been a tentative knock on the door and Jesus had poked his head in, asking if you were all ok in here, and that's when you'd started hysterical-giggling again. 

When a slightly baffled Jesus left the room, you'd all finally agreed to just go the fuck to sleep. Of course, then you'd had to argue about who was sleeping where, since there were three of you and only one bed. You'd offered to take the floor, and they'd turned twin looks on you that had you holding your hands up in mute surrender.

You'd finally laid down wrapped around Daryl, but your eyes kept opening every so often to check to make sure Merle was still there, snoring away in the floor just over the edge of the bed. Within easy reaching distance of you and Daryl, you'd noticed. You couldn't relax no matter how much you wanted to, afraid that if you fell asleep you'd wake up to find that it was all a dream. That Merle would be dead again or with Negan's people, and Daryl would be in those awful clothes and not looking anyone in the eye and- 

You shivered a little, curling in on Daryl's arm around your middle. He was breathing soft and steady on the back of your neck, your head resting on his other arm where it was stretched along the pillow beneath your head. His hand was going to be sound asleep in a few hours, you knew, but it was nice for now. You forced your eyes to close and started to relax. They were here, with you, and they were safe. 

 

You'd been settling back down from checking on Merle again- laid out on his back and with his head on his arm, the snoring having mercifully stopped- a sleepy smile on your lips, when you felt Daryl stiffen beside you. That was all the warning you had, just his body tensing up between you and the wall the bed was against, and then he was scrambling up and pressing back into the corner with a yell he cut off before it really even began, breathing hard as his head whipped back and forth rapidly. 

"Dixon. Hey," you whispered, reaching a hand toward him. He curled further into the corner for a heartbeat before he relaxed with an explosive breath and grabbed for you. You felt him trembling as he melted into you, head on your shoulder, and you ran your fingers through his hair and whispered nonsense to him. 

"Ya a'ight, baby brother?" Merle whispered, and you looked over your shoulder to see him sitting up.

"Yeah," Daryl whispered back. "It's nothin'. Come on, woman, I'm good. Lay back down. Only got a few hours till morning." 

You did as he asked, but you felt the tremble still in the arm he wrapped around you, and you felt his shaky breath as he pressed his face against the back of your neck again. 

Negan was going to pay for this.


	45. You Do Not Get Paid Enough For This Shit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

He said no, just like you knew he would. There was a big speech, a story about trying to expand and losing people and limbs to the dead- the wasted, as he called them, and you liked the sound of that- and Rick argued. As Rick does. 

You'd written him off already. Badass tiger or no, you didn't have time for this. Negan would be noticing his people were missing before too much longer, and you knew it. 

Then he offered Daryl and Merle asylum, since "the Saviors do not set foot inside our walls." 

"How long you think that's gonna last?" Daryl shot out, and stalked away. 

You and Merle spun wordlessly and followed him. 

 

 

At the gate, your people all looked the other way as you and Daryl clung to each other. He was pissed about being left behind, but he was trying to hide it for you. That just made you more upset and unwilling to leave him.

"I don't want to be alone again," you whispered to him. 

"I know, woman. But I ain't gone. It's just for a few days. Till the dust settles. Then we'll take out this bastard and we'll be home. Promise," he whispered back. 

He glared at Rick. "Take care of my girl." 

Rick nodded. "As much as she'll let me, brother. I know you hate this, but- try to talk to Ezekiel." Then Rick gave a tiny smile. "Or just stare him into submission. Whatever it takes." 

So at least your last sight of them this time was of Daryl faintly smirking and Merle laughing outright. 

 

 

You were sitting between Jesus and Carl this time, with everyone packed into one vehicle now to get you home. Leaving the Dixon boys the other car had been your idea, and Rick had agreed. 

Negan's voice came crackling over the radio and you jumped. Jesus and Carl both reached a hand toward you at the same time, and you almost laughed as they exchanged amused glances. As Negan finally stopped eulogizing some bastard named Fat Joey, you were met with a line of cars blocking the highway. 

Son of a bitch. 

"Move them out of the way, then move them back?" you questioned, leaning forward to look between Rick and Michonne. 

He nodded. "They don't get to know we were here." 

 

You were the first one to spot the explosives, strung along the road between cars. Rick put his face really fucking close to one of the bundles while you watched with shaking hands. 

You sure as hell were not qualified for explosives, and you did not play with that shit. 

"This is for a herd," Carl said suddenly. "I heard some of them talking about it." 

"That's why it's a steel cable," Rosita chimed in. "It's not just for one walker. It's for a lot." 

"We need these," you said grimly, not liking where things were going. 

"Yeah," Rick said with that world-weary sigh that usually accompanied a bad idea. 

 

 

Luckily, Rosita apparently did know what she was doing. You happily left her and the others who were braver than you to it, holding up your hands and firmly declaring no way as they all set to work. 

And then Negan's voice crackled over the radio again. 

"We've got ourselves a red situation. I need a search party. If those Dixons ran home like the dumb asses they are-" 

"On it. I'll be there in time for lunch," Simon answered. 

"Time's up, folks," you muttered, and everyone went into rapid, careful action. 

 

 

And then, because of course they would while your people were carefully removing explosives and you were already under a time crunch, the herd appeared in the distance. 

"Rick!" you called, and he followed your gaze. 

"Shit. We've got to get those cars put back!" he yelled, and you started muttering under your breath. 

"Won't they know we took their explosives anyway?" Jesus asked. 

"We want the herd to stay on the highway," you told him grimly. "We may need it." 

Sigh. 

 

You watched Michonne and Rick's backs as they kept working on the explosives, but you knew the herd was moving too fast. 

"Ninja, Sasha- can you get to Hilltop on foot?" you snapped. 

Jesus gave you a look and Sasha shrugged, and Rick nodded and gave them a message for Maggie. They ran into the woods, and you narrowed your eyes as you looked at the cars the explosives had been cabled to. 

Oh shit, you had an idea. 

You were head down in one of them, muttering under your breath and wishing you'd paid more attention when Daryl was hot wiring cars, but you were pretty sure you got it fairly well. As you headed for the other one, you cussed harder. 

"Rick, Michonne, the cars- one's ready, get the other one," you snapped. "They're going to cut the others off. When you're ready, lay on the horns. I'll get out of the way, don't worry." 

The two of them yelled questions, but you knew they'd figure it out and hell, there was no time anyway. You took off before they could stop you, heading straight for the herd at a run as you pulled your knife in one hand and machete in the other. 

"Time to dance, you bastards," you said cheerfully, feeling yourself smile as the first one reached you. 

 

 

It couldn't have been long- minutes at the most, and probably not even that- before you heard the honk, but lord it felt like it. 

You ducked and weaved and stabbed and thrust, in constant movement as you waded your way into the herd. You'd taken a running leap to get onto the hood of one of the cars after the first few went down, and now the herd crashed and pressed around you, moaning and snapping and reaching. 

You didn't have long before the sheer weight of them started moving the car you were on and you were royally fucked, so you hoped Rick and Michonne would get moving soon. As you were kicked back another dead one off your machete's blade, you heard the blast from the horns and laughed. 

Perfect. Now to get the hell out of the way before they came mowing them down. 

You glanced around with wild eyes and saw the other cars strung out like lily pads on a lake. There were an ass load of walkers between you and them, but you'd done worse, and-

Ok. Ok. You could do this. 

 

You had no idea how any of you had done that, and you were covered in blood and guts- again, damn it all- when you made it to the SUV and Carl flung open the door and hauled you in. You kicked back a couple of the biters who got just a little too close and he pulled the door closed and you were wild-eyed and laughing and panting. 

Tara and Rosita and Carl just glared at you, Carl muttering about crazy fucking Dixons under his breath. 

Then Rick and Michonne were fighting their way through with explosives in their arms, and you were reaching out to pull Rick in and Tara was hitting the gas before the doors were even closed. 

"I pushed it. I pushed it," Rick muttered as Michonne gave him a look, and an explosion sounded from behind you. 

"Yeah, I didn't like the look of that shit at all," Rosita muttered. 

They all looked at you like you'd lost your mind when you started laughing so hard tears came streaming down your cheeks. 

 

 

You hauled ass through the gate on foot. Tobin met your group there, and he took one look at the way you and Rick were walking together and frowned. 

"Didn't find anything?" 

"No," Rick said grimly. "Listen, we need to get everyone ready. They're-" 

"Dad!" Carl called as a vehicle pulled up before the gates were even closed. 

Aww, fuck. 

"Saviors," you told Tobin shortly as Aaron- beat up from a Savior encounter of his own still- and Eric walked up and joined you. Your group stood their ground as the trucks and motorcycles pulled in, and you and Rick glanced at each other. 

You stepped forward together to meet the Saviors. 

 

 

"Rick! Hello. Oh, and the lovely lady. YN, right?" 

You didn't respond, opting for a cool look instead. 

"We thought it'd be longer," Rick said flatly. 

"Do you think we're here for a tribute?" Simon asked, his cheerfully friendly demeanor not fooling you or anyone. 

"Why else?" you said. "Unless Negan's offering to give me my husband back. Where's Merle?"

Simon stared at you for a moment. "She speaks! And she asks the pertinent question- one of them anyway. Where is Merle? We're here for him and Daryl." 

"Negan has Daryl and Merle works for you now," you spat.

Simon shook his head. "Ohh, but then Ricky's boy showed up, and you followed him, and Daryl and Merle went missing. Might those two things be... connected?" 

"They're not," Rick said. "We didn't know he was gone till right now." 

Simon's smile was all teeth as he spread his hands. "Then this should be easy. Everyone find a buddy. Gonna have to follow us around. If he's here, we really need you all to see him die. You, milady, are with me. Negan's orders; we're to treat you real nice." 

Well, this was going to be fun.

 

Ok, the empty pantry was a surprise. Like, a really big surprise. What the fuck had happened to the food? 

Luckily, Simon left it alone after a few quipy comments and Aaron chiming in on the number of people you had and adjusting to the new system, etc. Then he was heading out the door, leaving a damn mess behind him. As he jumped into the cab of the truck, he leaned out the window. 

"Oh, and Rick? If Daryl does show up here- two days from now, two months from now.... hell, two years from now. Just know there's no statute of limitations on this. Keep that hatchet handy. You're gonna need it if he turns up with you people. And it won't turn out the way it did for your boy." 

It was Rick who grabbed your arm and dug in, holding you back while Simon laughed and drove off. 

Bastard. 

 

"What happened to the pantry?" You spat at Aaron and Eric before the gate was even closed. 

"We don't know," Aaron said. "And we need to talk about Gabriel." 

What the fuck? 

"Where is he?" Rick asked. 

"He was on watch the night y'all went to scavenge. I was supposed to take over for him in the morning. He wasn't at his post," Tobin answered as he joined you. 

"Pantry was cleared out and a car was gone," Aaron added. 

"Shit, shit, shit, shit," you muttered, taking off for the pantry at a dead run. You did not have the time or the energy for this shit, and frankly, you were sick of Father Disturbing. 

"YN! Wait," Rick said, catching up to you and grabbing your arm to make you stop. 

"He stole our shit and ran!" you snapped. 

"That's not Gabriel. He wouldn't do that to us," Rick said seriously, and you gave him a look. 

"Are we talking about the same guy?" you asked incredulously, and stormed the rest of the way into the pantry. 

 

Rick was the one who found the Bible, face down and open on the floor. 

"Why wouldn't he have taken this with him?" he asked you while you paced. Tara and Michonne were trying to reason it out, Michonne on your side and Tara on Rick's. 

"I don't know, Cowboy. Because he's a coward who's abandoning people to starve? I'd leave it behind too," you dismissed. "Come on! There's no tracks. He didn't leave a note. He doesn't want to be found." 

Rick sighed and picked up the log notebook, flipping through it absently. "Yes he does," he said, handing it to you. The last page, in Gabriel's handwriting, just said 'boat'. 

You looked at Rick blankly. "Boat?" 

Aaron stepped to your side and looked at it. "How would he know we were out there?" 

"We found a houseboat," Rick said, like that did anything to clear up the issue. "And I don't know how he would know."


	46. The Greasy Garbage Gang and Their Hit Single, What the Fuck Is A Winslow?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
> cannon divergence

You thought about changing clothes while Aaron packed some supplies and Rick spent a few minutes with Judith, but really, what was the point? Then the merry crew was on its way, minus one Carl and plus one Aaron. 

Because you didn't have enough going on in your lives; now you needed a rescue mission. What the fuck. 

You picked up the boot print and whistled the others over. Silent, Rick and Michonne looked over your shoulder and nodded. Tara and Rosita followed with Aaron, and you headed out, moving as silently as possible. 

The others tried, they really did, but they had a lot to learn before they got Dixon quiet in the woods, and you were spending almost as much time cringing at their noise as you were tracking and silently bitching about going on this damn rescue mission in the first place. You so did not want to be here, doing this. You needed to be heading to the Hilltop with your maps and shit, to start making a plan of attack and marking the outpost locations that Jesus knew about. You needed to be scouting the area to pick up the movements of the Saviors, learn their lookout spots and hideouts and areas of weakness. 

Hell, you needed to be back at the Kingdom with Daryl and Merle. 

But no, you were here, trying to rescue an asshole you didn't even like, probably just from himself. 

Huh. 

You froze and the others practically ran into you. Maybe you weren't rescuing him from himself after all. 

You were surrounded, by people who moved far quieter than yours. And they had some guns. Plus, holy shit there were a lot of them. 

You glanced at Rick as everyone stood back to back, hands up, and he looked at you and slowly grinned. 

 

You hadn't expected the landfill. Or the sculptures. You were a little worried about how many of them there seemed to be, but the way they were just milling around aimlessly made it hard to get an accurate read. 

Besides, numbers were a good thing. 

You were watching everything happening with avid interest, standing to one side of Rick. Michonne was on the other, and you shot her a cheerful smile. She shook her head at you a little, face serious, but there was a hint of humor in her eyes. Rick looked over his shoulder at her first, then at you, and he was smiling too. 

"Are you a collective, or does one lead?" The voice belonged to a woman, dressed in all black and with the haughty expression of an undisputed leader. 

Someone shoved Rick forward, and you smirked as he glanced at the woman. "Hi. I'm Rick," he declared. 

"We own your lives," the woman answered. "You want to buy them back? Have anything?" 

Oh, that was funny. Bitch thought anyone owned you, she and her greasy gang of garbage people were going to get a lesson real soon. 

"Well, you have one of my people," Rick said calmly. "Gabriel." 

"We want to see him first," you heard yourself saying, and mentally you sighed. You could have stayed out of this one. You could have held back and not been on someone's radar, just this once. You were tired, damn it. 

But no, you had to open your mouth. God. 

The woman glanced at you, then moved her eyes back to Rick. Rick shrugged, and after a silent moment she jerked her head toward some of her people. They brought out Gabriel, who looked weird as all get out without his black shirt and collar on. Plus, you know, terrified. 

"The boat things you took got taken. Saw them, so we took the rest. Then we took him." 

"Well then, you know we have nothing to buy back our lives with," Rick said reasonably, and you snorted. 

"That's what you'll have soon. Nothing," you fired off. "We already belong to that group who took those supplies from the boat. The Saviors." 

"If you kill us, you'll be taking something from them. And they will come looking," Rick added, and the woman continued ignoring you to stare at Rick. "You only have two options when it comes to the Saviors. Either they kill you or they own you. But there is a way out. Join us." 

She smirked at him. "No." 

A motion of her finger had her people leading Gabriel away, and others closing in on your little circle of people. You knew a test when you saw one and you tried to yell out to them, but Rosita started the fight, and then others were joining in. Rick was trying to calm them down, but you stood still, eyes locked on those of the person in your face. 

"Let us go, or I will kill her!" Gabriel's voice rang out, and you turned with a sigh to see him with a knife at the throat of a distinctly unconcerned woman. 

"Away from Tamiel now," the leader said scornfully, and you chuckled in appreciation of her tone. 

"They have things," you spoke up, and she turned to look at you slowly. "Food, weapons, vehicles, fuel. Whatever you want, they have it." 

She studied you now, before flashing another hand gesture that had her people lowering their weapons. Rick met your eyes and nodded, and you stepped to his side as you leveled Gabriel with a look. 

"Away from Tamiel," she repeated, and you shrugged. 

"As the lady says," you told him, and he stepped away and tossed the knife. 

She turned back to you, still looking completely unfazed by the proceedings. "Your words now." 

You shrugged. She didn't say much, getting right to the point. Eliminating unnecessary words. You did the same. "Fight with us, we beat them, you get a lot of shit." 

"Want something now," she demanded. 

Huh. Well, that might be a little hard. You racked your brain for something that you had that you could offer. Yeah, there was pretty much diddly-squat. 

"Rick can do anything. This group? They found me- here, so far from our home," Gabriel spoke up. "What do you need? Just tell us, we'll get it for you." 

Oh. Ok. Sure, yeah, you could work with that. She looked from the priest back to you and Rick as she stepped closer. She made a another hand gesture, then looked at two of her people. 

"Tamiel. Brion. Show Rick and woman Up Up Up." 

What the fuck did that mean? 

 

Apparently it meant to the top of one of the massive garbage piles. You and Rick glanced at each other, then out over the almost endless piles. Your people were small below you, and Rick nodded his head at Michonne's worried face. 

You would have freaked the fuck out if it had been Daryl up here and you down there. You wanted to freak the fuck out as it was, because you had no idea how this was going to play out. 

"All of us, here since the change. We take. We don't bother. Things grow harder. We open cans, sometimes inside's rotten. Time's passed. Things are changing again. So maybe we change." The weird leader said. 

You could get behind that. You changed or you died. This was another group of people who didn't know what the world was really like out there, kept secure behind these walls of garbage and abandoned things. Well, they'd learn eventually. Eventually, just walls wouldn't be enough. 

"Maybe?" you murmured, and she stepped around Rick and came between the two of you. 

"Maybe," she agreed with a slight smirk. "Need to know you're real with this, that you're worth it." 

Well, sure. That wasn't ominous at all. 

 

You were right. Next thing you knew, you were flying through the air, having been shoved. You hit the side of the garbage heap with a grunt and rolled down, and the clatter that rose told you Rick had joined you. You laid there stunned for a minute, then started pulling yourself to your feet. You already hated this, and had a feeling it was only going to get worse. 

You reached for your knife before remembering it wasn't there because they had it and muttering a curse. 

"Cowboy. Plan?" you asked simply as you backed to where he was getting to his feet. 

"How should I know?" he asked back. Eh, fair point. He'd only just landed here same as you. 

"Rick!" Michonne's shout reached you, and Rick peered through a pipe or something when he saw her anxious face. You were staring hard at something in the pile that looked just slightly out of place, trying to figure out what it was.

"We're alright!" he called. 

You supposed in the technical sense that was true, but you had a feeling you were going to be well and truly boned in a minute. 

Oh fuck, look at that. You were right. 

"Weapons, now, Cowboy," you snapped, grabbing his arm as the something you'd been staring at in the garbage started to move. Turns out the something was a damn zombie, head covered to the upper jaw in metal plating with a shit ton of spikes. There were more spikes sticking out of the body of the thing, and this moment in time jumped a bunch of others to take place as one of your top five most fucked moments.

Rick turned and saw the thing. "Shit. Shit!" 

"No kidding," you muttered, backing away from it with him as it started toward you. "What the fuck even?" 

You were backing up, which wasn't the best idea you'd ever had given the terrain, and you tripped. The spike walker was headed right toward you as you tried to scramble to your feet when Rick slammed his hand down over one of the spikes on the thing's helmet, keeping it at arm's length even as he impaled himself. 

"Rick!" you shouted as he yelled and shoved it back, ripping his hand off the spike in the process. Goddamn it, that was not a good start. "Use the walls!" you added grimly, and started reaching into the piles of garbage for something, anything you could use as a weapon. You hoped like hell you had some antibiotics stashed somewhere at home, or that the Hilltop or the Kingdom did, because Rick was going to need it. 

You wondered idly if he'd had a tetanus booster any time in the last decade, because those spikes were nasty. 

Spike Walker was heading toward Rick again, and this time you jumped in front of him, kicking out at the thing carefully. You sent it reeling back, but you didn't calculate quite as well as you'd hoped and you ended up with a nice gash on your leg. Great, now you needed the tetanus booster and the antibiotics too. Son of a bitch. 

Not to mention it hurt like hell. 

"Anything, Cowboy?" you called a little desperately as the thing headed your way again. You backed toward the wall, bringing it along with you. 

"Come my way!" he called, and you adjusted direction a touch. You reached him and he stepped in front of you, grabbing something and yanking it out of the wall as the walker got close. 

Garbage rained down on the freaky dead fucker, buying you a few seconds' reprieve. Your eyes instantly went to the walls, scanning as you panted. 

"There!" you snapped to Rick, pointing to a metal sign sticking partway out of the wall across from you. 

"Go!" he called, and you ran two steps forward and jumped, grabbing onto the edge with the tips of your fingers. 

Bags and clothing and a mattress- damn, you almost wanted to take that with you, nasty as it was- came tumbling down, but you held onto your sign and shoved your way to your feet. Rick was tumbling another selection of trash onto the walker as you moved back to his side. 

"Mine or yours?" you asked. He shrugged. "Mine," you decided, thinking about Rick's bleeding hand, and started hacking off the thing's head with the edge of the sign. 

Fuck this dude. 

 

 

"Believe us now?" Rick roared up at the leader above you as you gingerly grabbed the head by one of the spikes and held up it. "Just tell us what you want, and we'll get it." 

You tossed the head aside and tossed your metal sign as well when the ropes dropped down. 

"Ladies first," Rick muttered, gesturing you ahead. 

"Together," you told him firmly. "You're down a hand and I'm down a leg." 

"Fair enough," he grunted, and you started hauling each other up. 

 

"Guns," she declared, giving Rick a long look you couldn't quiet decipher. "A lot. A lot. And then we fight your fight." 

"Ok then," you muttered as she turned on her heel and led the way down. "No, no, we're fine. Not bleeding at all." 

Rick snorted and wrapped an arm around you so you could lean on him a little. His hand and your leg were both bleeding pretty badly, and you really hoped they'd offer something. Anything. Ugh. 

 

"After, we get half of what's won," she declared to Rick. 

Umm, no? "A third. And we're taking back what you just stole from us," you said bluntly. 

She smiled and didn't look away from Rick. "Half." 

"A third." 

"Half." 

Rick laughed. "A third." 

"Third and we keep what we stole." 

Your turn to laugh. "No." 

"A third, and half of the jars that we took. One time, this time. Yes?" 

You and Rick glanced at each other. "Yes," you finally agreed. 

"And the guns." 

 

"We have a deal," Rick announced as the two of you limped and bled your way around the corner. 

Jadis- Rick had finally gotten her name- had told you to leave, with the warning that the deal expired. You were mostly trying not to think too hard about the fact that she hadn't answered Rick's question about what the intended to do with Gabriel, or that she'd called the freaky spike zombie Winslow. 

Ugh, that shit was going to show up in some nightmares for sure. 

They'd dropped your weapons in a pile, thank God, and everyone geared up while you and Rick looked at your injuries and around dubiously at your surroundings. You finally sighed and pulled off Daryl's shirt. It wasn't much cleaner than anything there, but you couldn't just go bleeding all over the place either. 

You took your knife from Aaron and slashed it in half, and Michonne wrapped Rick's bleeding hand while Aaron helped you wrap the gash on your leg. 

"Need stitches?" you asked, and he shrugged. Well, you'd know soon enough if you could get home. 

"Let's go, people. This place makes me want a shower," you muttered.


	47. Is This Day Over Yet?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence

Rick and Gabriel were talking and Rosita was causing trouble. You were leaned against a wall with your eyes closed, listening, while the garbage people loaded up the shit they'd stolen from you. Well, half of it anyway. 

"We shouldn't be going back to Alexandria. We should stay out here, look for the guns for this deal," Rosita complained. 

"Rick's hurt. YN's hurt. Aaron's hurt," Tara said bluntly. 

"I'm more worried about what Eric will say if he sees my face like this again," Aaron tried to defuse the impeding argument with a chuckle. 

"People back home need food anyway. Rick wants to bring the supplies back home and then we'll regroup, so that's what we're doing," Tara continued, sounding as tired of Rosita's bitchiness as you were. 

"Then I'll go on my own," Rosita declared, and you sighed, wondering if you needed to step in. 

Naw, you decided, Tara could handle it. Or Rosita would go off and get herself killed. You had some way more important things on your to do list. 

"We are sticking together, and that's it," Tara said softly but desperately. 

"What is your problem?" Rosita asked, and Tara exploded. 

"We're not looking for a fight right now, Rosita! We're getting ready for one." 

Go, Tara, you mentally cheered her on.

"It's always a fight, Tara! I'm not letting anyone get in our way or slow us down. If we've got to stop people from taking from us, or we've got to take from other people, I don't care. We win. Grow up." 

"Guns. Soon." At that, you pried your eyes open and saw Rick standing and looking at the small group of garbage people. 

"Soon. Or else," one of the men declared, and then they all just walked away. 

"Damn, Cowboy," you muttered as Rick and Michonne came to your side. "We just keep meeting people who want to take your title." 

"My title?" he asked, confused, and Michonne started snickering when you grinned and answered. 

"Yeah. Rick Grimes, Most Dramatic Son of a Bitch. We just keep meeting assholes who want to take it from you. Better up your game again, Cowboy. Might be time to bite out another throat." 

Rick groaned. 

 

 

"Soon as we get you two stitched up, we're going right back out to look for the guns, right?" Michonne asked Rick. 

"Yeah," he agreed. "Tara, you've been out further than anybody. At least you'll be able to tell us where not to look." 

Tara's eyes in the rear view mirror looked guilty as you glanced back at her. "Yeah," she said nervously. "Right." 

And she started playing with that seashell bracelet she'd been wearing since she got back. Oh yeah. Tara knew something. 

 

 

Rick the adorable also stole Michonne the damn cat sculpture. Her grin when he handed it to her was the cutest thing you thought you'd ever seen, and she was smiling at it in her arms as the three of you limped your way toward your houses. You were leaning on Rick as you headed toward home, but Carl came bolting up the road as you turned onto your street. 

"Dad! YN! Michonne! What happened?" he asked, skidding to a stop with a wild look. He shoved between Rick and you, his arm sliding around your waist to take your weight. 

"We're fine, Grimes," you told him cheerfully. "We found some people living in a landfill. They tried to feed your dad and me to Winslow. I beheaded Winslow. We made friends; your dad stole Michonne a cat. Now they keep making goo-goo eyes at each other, so maybe you and Judith should come to my house for awhile," you teased the two of them with a grin. 

"Naw, don't bother," Rick shot back. "We've gotta go right back out again anyway. Sorry, Carl. We have to go find some guns for our new friends." 

"But not before I find a home for my new cat," Michonne said with satisfaction, and Carl looked at the three of you like you were crazy. 

 

 

"Are you going with them?" Carl asked as he set careful stitches into your leg. You honestly didn't think you needed them, but you weren't exactly planning on sitting around and letting it heal up. You were going to be putting some miles in starting very quickly, and you needed to give the leg as good a boost as it could get. 

"No," you answered as you breathed hard through your nose. The words came out strangled around your clenched jaw. Anesthetic wasn't exactly plentiful these days. "I've got other plans. Need to get to the Hilltop. Scout the Sanctuary. Get back to the Kingdom. Your mom and dad can handle it- ugh, sorry. Michonne and your dad can handle it." 

"One more, then we're done," Carl reassured you. "And I don't mind. She's not my mom, but my mom's been gone awhile. You got me through it. Michonne's the next best thing to my mom anyway. Some ways, she's better." 

"Yeah?" you asked, voice softer. Then the kid pinched your leg again and shoved the needle through the already-tender flesh. "Shit!" you groaned. 

"Sorry, sorry. Almost... ok, done," he muttered, and tied off the dental floss he was using before snipping it. You breathed a little easier and forced your tense muscles to relax. 

"Yeah," he said with a shrug. "She's better for my dad. My mom was kind of a bitch. I mean, I love her and I miss her, but-" 

You snorted. "Yeah, she was. What about you, kid? You going with them or staying here?" 

"Staying here. Someone has to hold down the fort while you guys run around like crazy," he said with a soft smile. 

"You're growing up, kid. Hell, I should stop calling you kid. You aren't one," you told him with a soft smile. 

"Don't you dare," he informed you with a grin. "I'd miss being kid too much. Now, go get a shower. No offense, but you stink." 

You laughed and shoved at his shoulder as you pulled yourself tiredly to your feet. 

"And then take a nap!" Carl yelled up the stairs after you. 

 

The shower was blissful, but you skipped the nap. There was too much to do. You were seated at your table in the kitchen, finishing updating several copies of your records and making lists- one copy for you, one copy for the Jesus and Maggie at the Hilltop, one copy to leave behind. You considered making another for the Kingdom, but if they weren't going to fight, they weren't going to get your help. 

You wondered how your boys were. Seeing them, being with them again- it made their absence and the silence of your house worse. 

You wondered if Carol missed you as much as you missed her. 

Before you left for the Hilltop- your first stop before heading toward the Sanctuary for some serious spying- you'd need to move the last two dead drops. Rick had stopped by briefly on his way out with Michonne. You told him you'd moved them all and he'd nodded, not even asking where you'd shifted things to. It was a mark of his trust and a mark of his guilt, and either way you were grateful. If your people- like Rosita- knew that you already had some guns available, they would be pissed as hell and charging off without a plan in place. Negan and his assholes weren't the kind of people you could take on with a handful of handguns, four rifles, one shotgun, and four grenades- the sum of your hidden arsenal. 

You'd never said you had enough for anything. They were just backup drops so if shit hit and your people had to get out, they had options. 

You'd taken Rick through your plans for the next few days, and he'd agreed with all the steps you wanted to take. He'd urged you seriously to be careful and not get too close to the Sanctuary. He'd reminded you that if you got taken by Negan, your boys would get themselves killed trying to save you. 

You hadn't needed a reminder, but it sobered you all the same. You were hoping Ninja Jesus would go with you, to have your back and to help reel you in if you needed it.

 

 

Finally finished, you tucked the set of papers staying in Alexandria away in their home on the bookshelf and carefully stored the other two copies in the already packed gear bag you had sitting beside you. 

You were as ready as you were ever going to be. 

Carl was by the gate talking to Tobin as you jogged up, and you tossed an arm over his shoulders while you gave Tobin some final instructions. Then you turned toward Carl. 

"All right, kiddo. I'm out of here for awhile. I don't know how long, but I'll try to check in fairly regularly, ok? Don't worry too much. Watch out for your sister. Don't do anything dumb like head to the Sanctuary in the back of a Savior's truck." 

He sighed and rolled his eyes at you. "I'm never going to live that down, am I?" 

"Nope," you answered cheerfully as you hugged him for real. "I gotta run, Grimes. You're in charge. Love you and stuff." 

"Be safe, YN. Love you too, and stuff," he called as you headed toward the car you were stealing for speed. 

 

 

The guy who'd threatened you with a spear your first time at Hilltop was on the gate when you drove up. You put the car in park and opened the door, leaning against it as you looked up at him. 

"Oh God, it's the smartass," he called with a grin. 

"What's up, Kal? And that's Troublemaker to you. Open up, I need to see Jesus and Maggie," you shot back with an answering smile, and the gate creaked open. 

 

 

"Troublemaker!" Jesus called as you climbed out of your car. He jogged over and grabbed you in a tight hug, letting go quickly. "I'm glad to see you. Had Sasha and I worried when we left you." 

"Really? Sasha was worried about me?" you muttered uncharitably and Jesus smirked. 

"She was worried about everyone." 

"Yeah, that seems right. Mags around? I've got some stuff to show you guys, and then I could use some backup if you're free," you told him with a sly smile. 

"Uh oh. I don't like the look of that," he said, gesturing you towards his trailer. "She was in here last I saw. I can probably lie to Gregory and sneak out with you." 

"Two for one, huh? You get some adventure and you get to lie to Gregory?" you said mock innocently and he snorted. 

 

 

Maggie was in the trailer with Enid and the way her face lit up when she saw you made you beam back at her. A hard hug later- and quick, unexpected one from Enid as well- and you were settling down around the table with the three of them. 

"You look even better than the last time I saw you," you told Maggie, reaching over and squeezing her hand. "I'm glad." 

"I feel good. Strong. I'm ready to fight these bastards. The Hilltop will be ready," she answered grimly. 

"So will Alexandria. Ok, so there's shit to fill you both in on, and then I'm going to borrow Jesus here. I brought you copies for the Hilltop of everything we have so far. Keep them somewhere safe, and we'll update you as you go along. For now, Ninja Jesus and I will take your copies with us, since we're going to go get some intel." You pulled your packets out of your bag and spread papers along the table. 

You glanced up as you started down the list to see them giving each other looks. 

"What?" you asked, and Maggie laughed. 

"I told you." 

"You're like a general," Ninja Jesus said, his eyes wide as he took in the papers. 

You shrugged. "I'm just organized, and I know some things. I need to know more things, so can you two please fill me in?" 

It was heading toward dark by the time you were done with Maggie and Jesus, and Jesus insisted that you wait until morning to leave. Considering your day had begun at the Kingdom after extremely little sleep, rolled through the walkers on the highway to Alexandria and Simon to the garbage gang and now here- 

Well, your legs felt like they weighed somewhere around two hundred pounds and your eyelids weren't much lighter. 

You agreed graciously but refused to sleep on the couch when Enid offered it. Sasha and Maggie still split the bed, Enid was on the couch, and you honestly weren't sure if Jesus was sleeping, much less where. You decided to steal a blanket and pillow and crash in your car, and Jesus shook his head as he strolled over to the car with you. 

"You really are a Dixon," he said, and you glanced at him. 

"What makes you say that?" 

"Daryl wouldn't sleep in the trailer either. Opted to crash in the truck bed. Made the same comments about the number of people in the place. I hope you sleep more than he did, though." 

You sighed. "Ninja, you've been a damn good friend. I owe you. For Maggie, for helping me get to Carl, for getting Daryl and Merle out. They won't tell me what it took, but I know it was a lot. I asked for a miracle and you delivered." 

"When are you Dixons going to stop trying to thank me for the same things? God, you're just alike. Get some sleep, YN. Come get us if you need us." He walked off with a shake of his head and a fond smile.


	48. The Many Adventures of Jesus and Troublemaker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> bad jokes (sorry not sorry)

You left before dawn the next morning, Jesus riding shotgun. 

"What, you don't want to take the wheel?" you said, deadpan. 

He looked at you for a long moment before sighing. "You really just made that joke?" 

You grinned at him and shrugged, and the gates of Hilltop swung closed behind you. You ditched the car halfway between the Hilltop and the Sanctuary, and went on foot from there. You went in close first, Jesus leading a convoluted path from tree cover to the roof line to street to wiggling through the open doors and trunks of rusted out cars and damn, you were impressed. 

For real impressed. 

"Ninja Jesus," you whispered in awe, shaking your head, as he led you to a lookout point in the upper story of a building close to the compound. He bowed modestly and pointed to the window. You took up position, and the first six hours passed with the two of you taking turns with the binoculars. 

 

You kept a long of every movement they made- shift change for the workers on the walker fence; the number of new walkers they put out per shift; shift change for the guards patrolling the inside of the wall; shift change for the sniper on the roof of the compound; the number of times someone stepped out for a smoke break and where they gathered. 

If there was movement, you wrote it down. 

If there was noise, you wrote it down. 

 

Evening of the first day and your notebook was full. You opened the second, did rock paper scissors for who was taking the first watch, and you lost two out of three. That was fine with you, and you settled down into place at the window while Jesus curled up on his side, facing you. 

"Can I ask you something?" he asked after a minute, and you glanced at him. He was using his pack for a pillow and his ninja coat as a blanket, and his long hair was pulled back for the first time since you'd met him. 

You shrugged. "I mean, I think you've earned it. What's up?" 

"How did you and Daryl meet? The more I get to know you, the more you seem perfect for each other. But on first glance..." he trailed off with a chuckle and you grinned a little. 

"Oh, Ninja Jesus, that's a long story. Short version? He saw me walking half dead down a road and offered me a ride, and I called him an asshole. We needed up sharing a truck, a tent, most meals, and enough grunted conversation to realize we loved each other," you said with a shrug. "Why?" 

"No reason," Jesus answered. "You just look like an unlikely pair at first. He's all quiet and surly until he's pissed off or until he opens up to someone, and you're friendly and open until you get pissed off and go all cold and frightening. But you're so in sync it hurts to look at sometimes. Makes me wish I had that." 

"No one special then?" you asked as you watched Dwight the Dick come outside and light up. You wrote down the time under the heading you'd made for cigarette breaks on your notebook, then added the who and the where. 

"No, no one special. A few boyfriends passing through. No one I had that connection with. No one I'd want to call and asshole and marry, anyway," he teased, and you laughed. 

"I mean, there was some other stuff in between. But yeah. That's why I'm doing this. For him. For all of them. For you," you added, with a smile over your shoulder. Outside, Dwight flicked away the cigarette and headed back inside, and you glanced at your watch and wrote down the time. 

Jesus fell asleep and the hours passed. 

 

 

You crashed hard at the end of your shift, falling asleep almost before your head hit the bag. When you woke up, the dawn light was filtering in, and you were covered with Jesus' ninja coat. You stretched with a groan, and Jesus chuckled. 

"How we doing?" you asked as you sat up. 

"Repeating the same patterns. Think we've got what we need here," he answered, and you nodded. A quick breakfast- a couple of protein bars you'd smuggled out of the Kingdom- and you were following Ninja Jesus back out of the building, weaving through a dead-car minefield, and then dropping down to belly crawl under the supports of another building before you hit the tree line. 

You scowled down at your black dirt covered shirt and sighed. "Now I know why you wear black leather." 

He looked at you with a faint grin. "Sorry, Troublemaker." 

 

Then you were slipping through the woods behind him, and you were impressed again. He was almost as silent in the forest as he was on the pavement, and that wasn't a transition everyone could master. You spent hours that day circling the Sanctuary in a spiral, noting several spots where you thought Negan might have watchers. It wasn't easy, because you couldn't get close enough to be spotted, but anything was better than nothing. 

Though not, in the case of the lookouts, much better. 

You were tired and crabby and the cut on your leg was throbbing when you and Jesus decided to call it quits and head back to your stashed car. It was late afternoon on your second day out and you both needed to check back with your respective homes. If you didn't encounter any unexpected delays, you should be able to get all the way home to Alexandria before dark. Just barely before dark, but still. 

You looked at each other and nodded, and then of course, shit hit the fan a few minutes later.

 

"Well, we found a lookout," you muttered to Jesus as the two of you crouched behind a log. 

"No shit," he muttered back. 

You were pretty well screwed right now. The lookout hadn't spotted you yet, due to Jesus' extremely quick reactions and your combined sneaking ability. But you didn't have anywhere to go to hide. This damn log was literally the only cover around. 

"Options?" Jesus asked, looking at you anxiously. 

You sighed. There were three, and all of them sucked. "One: shoot him with my bow. Quick, silent, and easy, but Negan will know who it was instantly, and Alexandria will be fucked. Option B: just regular shoot him. Loud, messy, noisy, attention grabbing. Three: Make a run for it." 

Jesus was silent. "Shit," he said after a minute. 

"Yeah," you agreed. 

 

 

Eventually, you decided to make the run. There wasn't any other choice, really. Killing the guy, no matter what method you used, was guaranteed to attract the Saviors' attention at a time you needed to be keeping your heads down. Running, if ultimately doomed to failure, at least had the possibility of you getting away unseen. If the guy wasn't paying attention, or happened to be looking the other way, or- 

Yeah, fine. You didn't say it was a good possibility. Just that it was one. 

You and Jesus eased up and braced yourselves, and he held up a hand in a slow countdown. Three fingers, two, one, and you bolted, a shadow at his side. You almost made it, too, but your leg chose that moment to give out and you stumbled. Jesus grabbed your arm and hauled you along and you were four steps from the trees, then three, two- 

"What the fuck?" came a voice, and there was a blast near your head. 

"Shit, shit, shit, shit," you muttered, but you and Jesus had made the trees by then and were ducking behind one. "Shit!" you growled as you heard the sound of the Savior yelling something. You couldn't make it out, but you were fairly certain he was calling over the radio. 

"Yes, you said that already. Come on, we've got to get to the car. It's not far now, and we need to get back to the Hilltop," Jesus said grimly. 

"Do you think he got a good enough look to know who we are?" you asked as you fell into place beside him. He offered you an arm, but you shook your head. You limped a little, but a fast walk was fine. It was apparently the running that caused you problems.

"I don't think so. We were pretty fast. But still. If we get to the car, we can listen in over the radio. I didn't bring it out because I knew we couldn't risk using it out here. But I keep it close at all times." 

"God bless you, Ninja Jesus," you muttered through clenched teeth, and concentrated on getting to the car. 

 

 

You made it to the vehicle and this time Jesus really did take the wheel. He appreciated you pointing it out to him almost as much as he'd appreciated the original question, muttering something under his breath about idiot Dixon smartasses. 

You realized you were grinning as you pulled the radio from under the passenger seat and turned it on. You tucked it into the console and started to shimmy out of your jeans. 

"What the hell are you doing?" Ninja Jesus yelped. 

"I need to check my leg, and these pants won't roll up far enough," you answered, giving him an odd look. He was staring straight ahead out the window and his cheeks were red. You started laughing after a minute. "Come on, dude. You aren't into me, so what does it matter?" 

You bent over your leg, peeling back the strip of sheet serving as a bandage and pressing on Carl's neat line of stitches. Nothing felt off and all of them were intact, so you mentally shrugged and started stuffing your leg back into your jeans again. 

"Daryl's going to kill me. Or Merle will," Jesus muttered. 

"Only if you tell them," you offered cheerfully.

 

 

The radio crackled a few times, Saviors calling out codes that you carefully recorded to analyze and try to crack later. Finally someone's voice came over, annoyed. 

"Base, Five. No more signs of movement. Tommy must have imagined it." 

"Roger, Five. Tell Tommy to get some more sleep or lay off the magic mushrooms." 

You shot Jesus a triumphant look and he shrugged as the Hilltop came into view. It was later than you'd planned on being, however, and the sky was already darkening. You were considering heading on anyway after your close encounter, wanting to get home and check on things, but then you saw them. 

They were standing toe to toe outside Jesus' trailer, Daryl flinging his arms in wild gestures. Enid was hovering in the doorway looking nervous, while Maggie and Sasha stood to one side, arms crossed as they watched. Maggie was waving Hilltop residents on who paused to view the scene, obviously telling them everything was fine. You were smiling.

It was a Dixon discussion, all right.


	49. Your House Is a Distillery Now and Other Things That Needed Mentioning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mentions of theoretical rape/non con  
> smut-adjacent

You were out of the car and heading that way with a smile you could feel splitting your cheeks before Jesus even stopped the car all the way. You could hear him laugh as you opened the door and tossed yourself out. 

You could also hear their raised voices, and you didn't know what they were fighting about, but you seriously didn't care. You were drinking in the way they stood, the way they moved, the sound of their voices together. You were still, deep in your soul, convinced Merle was really dead, and this was all a dream. 

"Hey, Dixons! Is there dinner to go with this show?" you called when you were close enough, and all of them whipped around. 

Daryl seemed to deflate as soon as he saw you, all the angry belligerence draining out of him as he waited for you to reach them. Merle and Maggie were grinning, and Enid's eyes looked a little less wide. Sasha nodded at you and shook her head as she walked away. You reached Maggie and touched her arm as you passed. 

"Welcome back," she told you. "Talk some sense into them, will you?" 

And you reached them. Daryl pulled you into him and kissed you roughly, and you burrowed into his arms with a sigh. Merle ran his hand over your arm and leaned back against the trailer, flashing Enid a grin as she trotted down the stairs and after Maggie. 

"What are you two doing here?" you demanded. "You were supposed to stay in the Kingdom and work on Ezekiel!" 

"Cain't do it. We ain't no good at that shit," Daryl muttered into your shoulder, still holding onto you tightly. You sighed. 

"Dixon, it's not safe here. You can't just-"

"We're safe enough, little sister. They dug themselves an escape route in case of Saviors. Goes out into the woods, and I ain't never seen anyone who can catch him a damn Dixon in the woods," Merle said cheerfully, and you decided to stop arguing and be happy they were here. 

You pulled back from Daryl just enough to look into his eyes. He met yours and smiled, but his gaze shifted away and back a lot, like it was hard to keep his eyes on yours. It made your heart hurt for a moment, knowing it was a result of his time in the cell. 

"Fine! Fine! I'm just glad you're here. I was supposed to go back to Alexandria this evening, but with you two here..." you trailed off and grinned at the two of them. 

"Where ya been?" Daryl asked, and Merle rolled his eyes. 

"Don't you start, little brother-" 

"Shut up, asshole!" Daryl snarled over him, and you held up your hands in the universal peace gesture. 

"Hey, boys! Cut it out! You're scaring the natives! What's going on?" you asked, your voice going gentle on the last bit as Daryl scowled. 

"Where ya been? We got here'n Maggie said you and Ninja Jesus lit out before dawn." 

"We went to scout the Sanctuary. We needed information," you told him, confused. Maggie should have been able to tell him that. 

"Yeah, but she said you were supposed to be back by noon. It's full dark, woman!" Daryl snarled. 

Oh. You touched his cheek and he flinched away for a split second before leaning into you. 

"Sorry, Dixon," you said quietly. "We ran into some trouble. Nothing we couldn't handle, but we got delayed. Noon was an estimate, anyway." 

"I told ya she was fine, baby bro," Merle scoffed, annoyed. "You tryin' to go off like a loaded pistol every time somethin' happens! Gonna get yourself taken again, and then where's she gonna be?" 

"She ain't your girl! You don't get it!" Daryl yelled at him, and Merle's face closed down. 

"Daryl!" you snapped, pissed. No, you weren't Merle's girl, but you were the next best thing- hell, being his sister might even be a strong tie for him than being his girl would have been; Merle'd braved hell and the dead and chopped off his own hand to get back to his brother. He'd fought for and beside you through a whole damn mountain of bad to get you back to Daryl, and he'd tried to sacrifice himself for the two of you over and over again. And now you knew he'd done things to try to save everyone, done things to try to get back to you, that he wouldn't even talk about. So no, you weren't Merle's girl. You were Daryl's girl, and to Merle? That almost mattered more. 

You glared at Daryl. "Don't take shit out on him when you're pissed at me! Plus, he's right. You can't lose your shit every time I'm in the slightest danger. We don't act like that, Dixon. We trust each other to handle ourselves. It's why we work."

Daryl looked ashamed, but stood his ground. "I know, woman. But you don't know what he's capable of."

"I don't?" you asked quietly. You didn't want to fight, and you knew he didn't either. You saw the fear and the worry in his eyes, and you knew where all this was coming from, so your voice stayed gentle. But he had to lay off, because no one could afford for you to stay on the sidelines in this. "I wasn't there that night, with the rest of you. But I've been under his eye ever since. I know." 

Daryl drew in a breath, shaking his head. "Ain't just the killing. Hell, you've handled killers with your bare hands. I saw his women. His fuckin' harem. They're all scared to death of him. Sherry's the only one who dared stand up to him, and she took a lot of shit for it.... I cain't- I cain't stand the thought of-" he broke off and shuddered, and you pulled him into a hard hug. 

"Hey. Dixon, there's nothing he could do to get me in his bed. Not now that you and Merle are free," you assured him as his hands gripped your hips, holding on like he was terrified to let you go. Like you'd disappear into someone else's arms if he loosened his grip for an instant.

"What if he don't stick to just askin'?" Daryl whispered into your shoulder. "I-"

"No, don't," you interrupted him. "Don't. He's not like that. We don't- we don't have to worry about that." 

He shuddered again and held onto you for another long moment, but then turned away sharply toward Merle. 

"Hey, man-" he started, ducking his head and hunching his shoulders guiltily as he took a step in Merle's direction. 

Merle just shook his head with a sigh. "Don't worry about it, baby brother. I get it," he drawled with a smile that didn't look quite right. He lifted one shoulder in a shrug that was supposed to be careless, but to you just read as wrong. "Well, I guess I don't get it, not really. But ol' Merle's the one who took care of her and hauled her ass halfway across Georgia for ya. So don't you try and tell me I don't care. I just know she can handle herself is all. And I agree with her- he ain't the forcin' type. Not in that way." 

"I know," Daryl said quietly. "I know. I'm sorry, man. I didn't mean ya don't care." Daryl took another little step toward his brother, and you were looking at him anxiously. You could tell he wasn't as ok as he wanted you to think, but you didn't call him on it when he waved his hand at Daryl in a dismissive gesture.

"All's forgotten. Little sister, you wanna tell us about that limp ol' Merle saw as you were walkin' up?" 

You groaned. "Oh god, the garbage gang," you muttered. 

"The fuck?" Daryl and Merle asked together and you grinned. 

 

 

You and Daryl spent the night on the roof of the trailer. It wasn't a five star hotel, but there were warm blankets and pillows, the stars wheeling above, and- best of all- there weren't five other people crowded all together. It reminded you of a night spent in the bed of Daryl's truck, before you were even you, really, and the look on Andrea's face when Daryl had hopped up with you rather than heading into Dale's old RV with her. 

God, you hadn't thought about them for ages and now all you seemed to be doing was remembering the past. You felt the sting of old guilt over Dale's death, but it was the look on Andrea's face when you'd asked her if she wanted to join the two of you in the truck bed that came back to you then. You huffed out a small laugh, and Daryl hummed a question at you.

"Just thinking about that night we spent in the bed of your truck when Sophia went missing," you whispered. "God, that feels like ten lifetimes ago." 

He chuckled a little. "Hell, woman, it almost was."

Your head was on Daryl's chest and his hand was in your hair, his fingers stroking through it gently and prying out two days' worth of tangles. Your cut leg was tossed over his hip, and his other hand rested on your thigh. You let out a contented little sigh as you stared up at the stars, your arm wrapped around him and your hand up under his shirt to rest on the bare skin of his side. 

"I missed you," you whispered, and he took a shaky breath. 

"Woman, ya ain't got any idea," he said after a minute. His hand clenched and loosened instantly on your thigh, and you realized this was the first time the two of you had been alone since he left. 

"Hey, Dixon. Talk to me," you said seriously, pushing up a little onto your side to look down at him. 

He shook his head wordlessly, and you saw the tightness of his jaw in the moonlight. You slid your hand out from his shirt to skim your fingers over his face, brushing back his hair and tracing the almost-invisible bruises along his cheek. Your fingers came away damp and you realized he was crying, or he had been crying a minute ago. You leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to his lips, and his hand in your hair tightened and held you in place as he kissed back with hunger. 

He curled you to him and rolled you over so he pressed down half over you, and rested his forehead against yours with a sigh. 

"I know ya want me to talk, woman," he said after a minute. "And I know there's shit to be said. Lot of shit I been through, lot of shit you've been through. But I don't- I ain't got the words for-" 

You set your fingers against his lips when he growled in frustration and sadness. You ran your fingers over his hair and down to the back of his neck. "We don't have to use words," you whispered. "Not tonight, anyway."

He made an urgent noise in the back of his throat and kissed you again, caging your face in his hands, and you didn't care that you were out in the open. You didn't care who might look out the windows of the big house and see. It was the middle of the damn night, and people should mind their own business. Besides, he turned and pulled the blanket up and over your heads, making your own little cocoon away from the rest of the world. 

 

 

Dawn brought you waking up without his warmth pressed against your back, and you sat up with your heart pounding in blind terror. The last time you'd woken up alone after sex with Daryl, he'd driven off on his bike and been locked in a cell and tortured, and-

He was sitting with his bare feet dangling over the edge of the trailer, pants and shirt on but unbuttoned. Your heart stuttered and slowed as you closed your eyes with a relieved sigh. You brought the blanket with you as you shifted over to him, wrapping it around both of you as you rested your chin on his shoulder and he took your hands in his. 

"Mornin', woman," he whispered, and you pressed a kiss to his shoulder as the sun speared up over the Hilltop's wall. 

"Mornin', Dixon," you whispered back as he tipped his head toward yours. "I have to go home today." 

"I know." 

"I don't want to leave you." 

"You ain't." 

You snorted. "You can't come to Alexandria yet, Dixon. So, yeah, I'm leaving you." 

"Not really. Not for long," he answered, bringing your joined hands up so he could kiss your fingers. "Ain't gonna wait much longer. Gotta get back to livin'." 

"Yeah," you agreed, tightening your grip on him. 

You stayed there until the door below banged open and Merle shouted a crude comment as he shaded his eyes to look up at you. You and Daryl flipped him off together. 

 

 

You left only an hour or so later, knowing the longer you delayed, the harder it would be. Merle gave you a hard hug and told you in his rough voice to be safe and hurry the fuck up with whatever damn fool plan you and Rick were cooking up. He needed to get home so he could check on his latest batch of 'shine. 

"Honestly, Merle, you left some of that shit going in the attic?" you exclaimed, suddenly wondering how in the hell your house was still standing. 

"Hell yeah, little sister. It should be good and ready by now," he drawled, and he winked at you as you groaned. 

"Serve you right if the whole damn place goes up in flames because someone lights a careless match," you muttered, and he kissed your cheek. 

"Love you, you asshole," you added with a reluctant grin, and he chuckled as he shoved you in Daryl's direction and headed for the guard stand. 

"Be safe, woman," Daryl said seriously, and you leaned into him. His hands gripped your shirt at the base of your spine, and he took a deep breath before he pulled away. "Go on, or I ain't gonna let ya go. I love ya, woman. Now go." 

He pushed you a little toward the car, but you grabbed his hand as he turned away, stopping him. "I love you so much, Daryl Dixon. I'll see you soon," you whispered. 

Then you drove away. 

Again. 

You were fucking tired of leaving him.


	50. Wanna Scare Some People and Steal Some Guns?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence

You'd been home for all of thirty minutes- long enough to shower and throw on clean clothes and eye the growing pile of laundry while wondering who the hell usually handled that- when Rick and Michonne got back. They had guns, sixty or so of them, and you pulled a notebook and a pen out of your back pocket and started getting organized. You'd need a complete inventory for both your records and the garbage people. 

"Where the fuck did you find all this?" you asked Rick as you sorted handguns from rifles from shotguns and started making your lists. 

"Long story," he said easily, and you knew that meant 'damn fucking bloody story'. "Got a load of MREs and stuff too." 

"Still owe me a deer," Michonne murmured, and you smiled at how close she and Rick were standing and how comfortable they were starting to look together. 

"I'm gonna pretend I know what that means," you teased, and the two of them laughed. "But Rick, we need to have a serious planning session when we get back. Ninja Jesus and I went on our little field trip while you were gone. I'll fill you guys in on the road." 

 

"Operational? All?" Jadis asked.

"To the best of my knowledge, yeah," Rick agreed. You were hanging back this time, since you knew nothing about these guns but how many of them there were. 

No, really, you were hanging back. 

"May need some cleaning. We found supplies," he added. 

"Expect us?" came the outraged voice of Tamiel.

Rick shrugged. "We cleaned some; we oiled some. You can do the rest. We do this together." 

"Yes, yes, but- operational?" Jadis asked again, insistently. 

"Well, you can fire a few, find out if you like," Rick snapped, starting to get irritated. 

"How many?" the man who'd taken you to Up Up Up spoke. 

"Sixty-three," you answered promptly. Damn it, you were hanging back. Son of a bitch. "We made an inventory," you added, and Tara held it out to them. 

"No." 

"You mean, the inventory?" Tara asked uncertainly, but you were already stepping to Rick's side with narrowed eyes at Jadis. 

"Not enough," she declared. 

You snorted. "You asked for a lot of guns, that's what this is." 

"Enough to fight your fight. Us? Nearly twice. Need nearly twice." 

What the fuck was this lady fighting that she needed nearly twice this number of guns? Or was she just being a dick? You were staring with narrow eyes as Rosita started running her mouth about wasting time. 

"Let's just take our guns and go," she snapped. 

"No. Our guns to take. Our deal still on," Jadis said calmly. 

"Not all of them. We're keeping ten," you said, and Rick nodded. 

"Five," Jadis countered, stepping into Rick's space. Jesus, you were getting tired of her pretending like you didn't actually exist. 

"Ten," Rick shot back. 

"Eight."

"Ten." 

"Nine. And the cat back," Jadis added with a lifted eyebrow. 

Yeah, she wasn't getting the damn cat, that was for sure.

Rick shook his head with a grin. "Twenty. I keep the cat, we get you the guns, we fight together. Say yes." 

Jadis' eyes didn't move from Rick's face but you saw the way they shifted a little, saw the change in them. 

Oh. Maybe that was why she kept ignoring you. You were pretty sure she had the hots for Rick. 

"Yes," she agreed. "More soon, we'll fight." 

The garbage people started taking guns from the back of the van, a steady stream of silent black-clad people staring straight ahead. Michonne was at Rick's side, talking to him quietly, and you stayed leaning against the side of the van and missing your Dixon boys. This was getting ridiculous. At some point, your people had to make their move. Now, however, you had to come up with another sixty-something guns for these people. Not to mention, arming your own. 

God, you were tired. 

 

You, Rick, Michonne, and Carl were sitting around their table. They'd fed you dinner- no where near as good as Carol's casseroles or hell, even Negan's spaghetti, but you hadn't cooked it and it wasn't a protein bar, so automatic win- and you and Carl had cleaned up and done the dishes in easy companionable silence. 

You couldn't believe where you were sometimes, and elbows-deep in sudsy water was one of them. The world had ended while you killed a man and ran away; you'd lost a group of people you'd tried to lead; you'd taken over and lived in a cell and a guard tower in a prison; you'd been nearly fucking eaten by cannibals. And now- now you lived in a house nicer than anything you could have even dreamed of being in before the dead started eating people. You lived two houses up from your best friends and cooked in ovens, not over campfires, and cleaned up in sinks inset into granite counters. And outside the walls, there were dead people shambling around and alive people waiting to kill you if they got a chance. 

What a fucking trip life was these days. 

Now it was planning and arguing time. You and Rick were about thirty seconds away from a Dixon-Grimes grudgefest over how long to wait and how heavy to strike when you finally did, and Carl was desperately trying to keep the peace. Michonne was plotting out a direction for her and Rick to go in the next morning to look for more guns and cheerfully ignoring the rest of you. 

"Rick, we have to make our move soon! They're going to be coming back and demanding tribute! Hell, I can't even fucking believe they haven't come back already. It's been three days- four days? No, three days, yeah, since they came looking for Daryl and Merle. They're going to come back and we have to be ready!" 

"Exactly! We have to be ready. Even if it means giving them another tribute and waiting until the next time to strike. We only get one shot," he argued, and you threw up your hands. 

"Sure. That sounds great, except we have nothing to give them!" 

And on and on it went. Carl fell asleep on the table sometime near midnight, and Michonne woke him up and herded him up the stairs about an hour later, telling you and Rick to keep it down and finish up soon. You managed to follow both of those orders, since you'd finally declared an uneasy stalemate over the time table issue and had moved on to studying the data you and Jesus had gathered about their movements. 

You fell asleep on their couch around four am and started right where you'd left off the next morning. Rick came down about an hour after you'd gone to work, took one look at you hunched over the table, and shook his head. 

"Up. Come on. We're taking a walk," he said, hustling you out the door over your protests. "You need to take better care of yourself. Fresh air will help, but you gotta start sleeping more, eating more." 

"I can sleep when this is over. Eat, too. We don't have time for taking care of ourselves, Rick; we have to survive right now." You were scowling as you approached the gate and Rick sighed. 

"I know. That's what we're doing. Need to check in with the gate guards anyway; make sure there's no major problems here at home. Then Michonne and I'll head out, and Tara and Rosita will go later," Rick was saying as Francine jogged up. 

"Hey, guys. Small problem." 

You groaned. 

 

Tara was coming out of her house when you and Rick walked up. 

"Hey, Ponytails. You ok?" you asked her, seeing something weird in her expression. 

"Yeah. Yeah, I was just coming to find you two. What's up?" she asked, shoving her hands down into her jacket pockets and hunching her shoulders. 

"You seen Rosita?" Rick asked. "She didn't show for her guard shift this morning." 

Tara sighed and looked away. "She probably just went out looking for more. She's been a little restless here lately." 

You snorted. Understatement of the year there. 

"Why were- why were you comin' by?" Rick asked after the two of you looked at each other. 

"Uh," Tara started, picking at her wrist. 

The wrist with the bracelet she'd been wearing since she got back from her long haul, without Heath. Your eyes narrowed at her. 

"I have something to tell you guys," she finally said, and you saw the strange burden she'd been carrying since she got back flow off her shoulders when she made her decision. 

This was going to be interesting. 

 

"Ok," you said slowly, voice dangerously calm. Carl grabbed your arm and dug his fingers in, but you ignored him to keep staring hard at Rick. "You mean to tell me that Tara found a community of badass women and children who apparently kill everyone on sight and have the guns we need, and you want the Dixons to sit this one out? All three of us? Have you lost your fucking mind, Cowboy?" 

Rick's earnest-leader expression didn't change. "Someone needs to be here in case the Saviors come. And Daryl and Merle need to stay hidden." 

"Leave Tobin in charge. He's done it before. Leave Gabriel in charge. I'm coming, Rick, and so are they. Where better to hide that away from home? Come on!" 

You and Rick glared at each other across the table. Long moments passed in silence while you argued with minute changes to your facial expressions and no one else in the room said anything. Finally Rick nodded once and you sat back with a smirk. 

"Don't gloat, Troublemaker," Carl muttered, and semi-nervous laughter ran through the others. 

 

Hilltop's gates swung open as you pulled up, Kal on guard throwing you a lazy salute with his spear. You waved back out the window and pulled to a stop just off the path. Daryl, Merle, and Maggie were already heading your way, faces grim. 

Oh, fuck. What had happened now? 

"Sasha's gone. Rosita too. We think they went after the Saviors," Maggie said as soon as they reached you. "They were here yesterday for an offering. Sasha and Rosita haven't been seen since." 

Merle's eyebrows shot up at what started coming out of your mouth. "Well hell, little sister. Ol' Merle ain't really sure that shit's even physically possible, darlin', but whatever floats you'n baby brother's boats..." 

He trailed off with a grin and a wink as you threw him a nasty look and Daryl rammed an elbow into his side. 

"Shit," you added mildly. "Maggie, we don't have time for chasing them down. We're heading to Oceanside." 

"What the fuck is Oceanside?" Daryl asked, and you reached an absent hand to push the hair back out of his eyes. 

"Community. Lots of guns. Women and children only because the Saviors killed every man and boy over the age of twelve. Tara found them on her adventures," you answered shortly, and the three of them looked at each other. "Boys, you in?" 

"Hell yeah, darlin'," Merle said. "Need to stretch my damn legs anyway." 

Daryl gave you a nod and squeezed your hand. You turned to Maggie. "Can we borrow Jesus? We're looking to take a lot of people, but we have to leave some at home. In case. So we don't exactly have the numbers alone." 

"Borrow me for what?" Jesus' voice came from over your shoulder and you jumped. 

"Jesus, Jesus!" you yelped, and he laughed. "God. Fuckin' Ninja. Wanna go scare some other people and steal some guns?" 

He shrugged. "I'm in." 

"I'm in too," Enid said, stepping over to Maggie's side. 

You glanced at Maggie, who looked into the distance for a moment and nodded. 

You shrugged. "Welcome aboard. If you're leaving with me, grab your gear. We've got to hurry, especially if Sasha and Rosita are doing something stupid."


	51. Conflict Resolution May Not Be Your Specialty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
> cannon divergence

Clinging to Daryl, pressed against his back, on his bike with the wind whipping your hair- Jesus, it was the closest to relaxed you'd felt in absolute ages. You leaned your cheek against his shoulder and felt him laugh a little, taking one hand off the handlebars to squeeze at yours. It reminded you of rides before the prison fell, just the two of you together, or Merle on the road beside you. You sighed, content in this moment, even knowing what you were heading toward. 

With you came the beaten up old RV and Rick and Michonne's van, and you were following Tara's lead toward the coast. In the end, you'd brought a shit ton of people: You, Daryl, Merle, Rick and Michonne, Carl and Enid, Aaron and Eric, Tara, Jesus, and Tobin. You wished Rick had left Tobin in charge at Alexandria, but he'd opted for Gabriel instead. 

Even with walkers streaming from the shipwreck and looking like Davy fucking Jones' crew, the coast was glorious. Miles of sand and that endless, breathtaking water- you'd turned a beaming face to the rest of your people and found them laughing at you. You'd made a face at them, turned around and stabbed a few versions of Back-to-life Barnacle Billy in the head, and studied the ocean with your toes nearly in the water for another few minutes. 

"You ready yet? We're on a bit of a schedule here, girlie," Merle yelled at you, and you sighed. 

"It's the damn ocean, Merle. If we can't take a minute to admire the beautiful things, are we any better than the dead?" you asked philosophically, patting his cheek as you headed back toward the road. "Come on, then, let's go," you called cheerfully over your shoulder as you grabbed Daryl's hand, pulling him with you back toward the road. 

 

At least you had a plan. This wasn't some half-cooked go-in-and-hope-they-like-us bullshit like you were kind of used to working with at this point, so that was nice. Tara would handle most of it, and you and the others were there for if shit hit the fan. 

Of course, you knew it would, but that was why you had the plan. 

Michonne headed up into her tree with a boost from Rick, her face worried but determined. Merle, Daryl, and Jesus were carefully wrapping and setting out the explosives Rick had insisted on bringing along. You hovered- ridiculously, because if they went off, all that was going to happen by you being closer was you'd go boom with them- and Jesus was giving you amused yet guilty glances while they worked and you stressed over accidental explosions. 

"I should have tried harder to stop Sasha and Rosita," Jesus finally said. "If they'd just waited one more day..." 

"Sasha's a good shot and Rosita knows how to take care of herself," Daryl muttered. "Probably back at Hilltop right now." 

"I hope so," you added grimly. "We're going to need them. There's a whole lot of people still got to die." 

Jesus eyed you nervously, but Daryl and Merle met your eyes with grim nods. 

"Hell, yeah, little sister," Merle said flatly. "There's things you people don't know some of them needs to pay for. We'll get 'em." 

 

It was a good plan- a simple one- and unfortunately it required an awful lot of waiting. Tara went in alone, sneaking into the camp while your people waited for either the signal to talk, or the signal to fight. 

The signal to fight was the end of a ticking clock. 

You were getting more and more anxious now as time ran down, watching from the trees with Daryl a few feet in one direction and Merle a few feet in the other. They weren't going to go for it. 

Tara was smart and sincere and she had the best shot out of all of you of getting these women to agree to fight at your sides. But if they'd run, when the Saviors killed their men and boys, and hidden instead of standing their ground? You didn't think there was anything Tara could do or say- that anyone could do or say- to change that. They'd built a life, a community, here and they believed they were safe. They wouldn't put that at risk.

"Time's up," you whispered, and glanced at the boys. They each nodded, and you started forward through the trees even before the explosions. 

 

 

It went off without a hitch at first, and you and the Dixons escorted the two women who'd made a break for the guns to the rest of the group. The others were on their knees with their hands up, and your people were doing their jobs- calm and in control. 

"We made a lot of noise," Rick said as he came striding up. "We want to wrap this up quick so you can send people to redirect anything coming this way. Tara said your forests are relatively clear, so we won't take any chances. No one needs to get hurt." 

You were watching faces and mostly people just looked confused. The two you'd rounded up looked irritated and disbelieving, and you didn't blame them. You met and held the eyes of one of them. 

"No one needs to get hurt," you repeated. "This is about what you have. We need it." 

"No one's taking anything!" The new voice came from behind and sounded pissed. 

Oh, there it was. The glitch in the plan that always comes. 

 

The older woman- you assumed it was Natania from Tara's descriptions- and the younger- probably Cyndie, Tara's friend- marched in an annoyed Tara at gunpoint. 

"I tried," she said when she met your eyes, and you nodded. 

"You need to let everyone go and leave right now!" Natania commanded. "Just walk away or this one dies." 

"No she won't," you stated flatly, and Jesus put a hand on your arm. 

"Yeah, we'll leave you alone," Rick agreed. "But we're taking your weapons with us. That's not gonna change." 

Hell no it wasn't going to change. And Tara was going to be fine. 

"Natania, right?" you said, stepping forward casually. "Put the gun down, and let's talk about what can change." 

Natania was glaring between you and Rick. "You need to leave right now." 

You stepped to the side and she shifted just a little. Perfect.

Tara's eyes flashed at you and then she looked up at the tree Michonne was perched in. "Michonne, don't!" she yelled. 

"Damn it, Tara!" you snapped. Tara glared back at you and you sighed. 

"Let go of her, now, or we'll kill you," Rick said, sounding as tired of the stand off as you were becoming. "None of us want that." 

"They want us to fight the Saviors," Cyndie said unexpectedly, speaking to the people on the ground. You glanced back over the people, trying to get a read on the mood, and the two women who'd gone for the guns were looking at each other. 

"We tried that. We lost. Too much," Natania snapped. "We're not gonna loose anymore. Not our guns, not our safety, not after everything we've done to get here." 

"We're gonna win," Tara said. "With your guns, with or without your help. You kill me and you die, and my people take the guns and nothing changes." 

You tuned out a little as the argument continued, eyeing the woods around you while Natania started yelling. There was something in the air, something on the wind maybe that had your attention- 

Shit. 

"Rick! Walkers!" Michonne yelled, and then everything started happening at once. 

 

Cyndie punched out the old woman and Tara was free. 

You whirled, bow up and settling in back to back with Daryl and Merle and Jesus, and Daryl had his crossbow up as well, and holy shit there were a lot of them coming. 

"Rick, get them up!" you yelled, and he was already moving as your little quartet backed up to join the others in a circle around the ones without weapons. You nodded to Carl as one of the two women began yelling at her people. 

"First shift, join them on the line. Knives out, dead only. Dead only!" she repeated, and you were grinning as a bunch of women with knives started taking their places with your people. That's what you were talking about, man. 

The short haired one ended up beside you as Rick was calling more instructions, and you glanced at her with a feral grin. 

"Let's see what you've got, lady," you challenged, and she gave you a look. 

"You're gonna be an odd one, aren't you?" she muttered, and you laughed. 

"Come on, warrior women in a community together? I love the shit out of you guys already, but the Saviors have got to go," you told her as you and Daryl shot at the same time, and the first two walkers dropped. 

Then the walkers hit ten feet from the line and you and your people lit them up. Of course, not all of them could be shot, and when some started slipping through the storm of bullets, you slung your bow back up and pulled your knife, and flashed the woman beside you another grin. 

Then you were motion and death, and before long you were out of dead to fight and Daryl was chuckling behind you. 

"No," Natania declared as you and the short haired woman shook hands. "We're not fighting them with you. So take your damn guns and go." 

Ok. You could do that. 

 

 

Baskets of guns were being loaded into the trucks while the women and children watched, silent. 

Frankly, it was a little creepy. You glanced up as Rick came to your side. "We don't need all of this, do we, Cowboy?" you asked quietly. You respected the shit out of these women, and you didn't want to leave them defenseless. 

But you had to win. 

"Yeah. We do," Rick said grimly. "I don't like it either. We aren't taking it all, but-" 

"We have to win," you agreed. 

 

 

Tara looked at them as your people grabbed the last of it. "We'll bring them back when its all over," she promised. 

Cyndie rose. "I want to go with you. Some of us do, but not all of us, and it has to be all of us. My grandmother thinks you'll all be dead." 

"Yeah, well, your grandmother's wrong about a lot of things. Where is she?" Tara asked, sounding sad. 

"She didn't want to see this," Cyndie answered. "She's lying down. I hit her pretty hard." 

You snorted and Cyndie glanced at you. You offered her a smile she didn't return. 

"Thanks for saving my life before. And the other time. And then the other one. Maybe today," Tara said, considering, and you and Cyndie both chuckled at that. This time, Cyndie smiled back at you. Barely, but it counted. 

 

More clinging to Daryl with the wind whipping your hair, this time in the dark, and you felt like you were really flying. 

You'd pulled it off, and everybody lived. Everybody lived. 

Then you were home, and the gate was being pushed open by Rosita. You tried to be glad she was safe, but mostly you were just pissed the hell off. You'd been talking to these people, over and over and over again, about going in without a plan. These Saviors? There were too many of them to be reckless. There had to be a plan, which is what you and Rick were doing. Why didn't they see that? 

Daryl pulled the bike to a stop and the two of you swung off together. You strode toward Rosita and Rick hopped out of the RV and jogged to intercept you, with Merle and Daryl not far behind. 

"What the fuck were you thinking?" you snarled at her, at the same time as Jesus asked "where's Sasha?" 

Rosita ignored you, eyes dull. "There's someone here." 

What. The actual. Fuck? 

 

They grabbed Daryl and Merle. Rick had Daryl, holding him back as he fought to get past him, and Carl was in Merle's way- Merle wasn't moving a muscle, since Carl had a hand slapped on Merle's chest and wasn't budging. 

But they didn't grab you. 

You were on the asshole wearing Daryl's vest in a flash, and he was on the ground. You had a knee on his chest, a handful of his shirt in your hand, and your fist on his face twice before anyone reacted. 

Then Carl yelled, "Fuck!" 

Hands grabbed you and hauled you back, and you turned on them with a blind snarl, swinging out without a thought, because all you wanted was to keep punching Dwight. You needed to keep punching Dwight. 

"YN! YN, stop!" It was Ninja Jesus' voice in your ear, and he did something complicated that you didn't think you could have understood even if you'd been watching instead of on the receiving end of it. Just like that, your arms were pinned. You glared out at all of them, growling as you kept struggling. Daryl was pacing behind Rick, watching you and Dwight equally, and Merle had a hand on his shoulder and was eyeing Dwight with suspicion. 

Rosita met your glare with one of her own. "He wants to help us!" She snapped, and you laughed. 

"Sure. He wants to help? Let me fuckin' kill him slowly!" you snarled, jerking in Jesus' arms again. He muttered a curse as you nearly broke free, but Daryl shoved past Rick to come to your side and put a hand on your shoulder.

"Woman, settle," he growled, glaring out at Dwight. 

You couldn't argue with that; it was him you wanted to kill the bastard for. You stared at him for a long moment before you nodded. Jesus loosened his hold, but stayed right there behind you, waiting. 

"That true?" Rick asked Dwight the asshole. "You wanna help?" 

"I do," Dwight said, having climbed to his feet. He had a split lip and blood coming from his nose, and you smirked at him behind Rick's back as he swiped at the blood. 

"Ok," Rick said easily, and your smirk turned into a grin. You knew that tone. You knew that stance, that tilt of the head. 

You were right. Rick pulled his gun and had it on Dwight in a flash and you laughed. 

"On your knees," Rick commanded, tilting his head to the side.


	52. Like Christmas, But With More Killing People

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> smut-adjacent

"Why?" Rick asked when Dwight had done as he was told. Jesus had let you go and you stood at Rick's shoulder now, Daryl at your side and Merle just behind you. 

"'Cause I want it stopped. I want Negan dead," he told Rick firmly. 

"Why don't you kill him, then?" you asked bluntly. Seemed like a reasonable solution to you. 

"It can't just be me. They're all Negan." 

Tara was in his face all the sudden, and Rick dropped his gun. "That girl you murdered? She had a name. Her name was Denise, and she was a doctor. She helped people." 

You felt a stab of shame. Here you were, ready to kill the bastard with your bare hands over what he'd done to Daryl in the cell, and he had killed Tara's girlfriend. Killed her, not just hurt her. If anyone deserved to kill Dwight, it was Tara or Daryl. Not you. 

But oh, god, you wanted to. 

"I wasn't aiming for her," Dwight whispered, and Daryl had him pinned to the wall with his knife inches from his eye. 

"Do it," Tara said, and you agreed. Rick and Jesus were looking at each other and trying to decide if they should stop him, and you grabbed Rick's arm and shook your head. Let them decide. This was their kill. 

"You wanna end it this way? Go ahead. I'm sorry. I am. I know you want to," Dwight whispered as Daryl didn't move. 

"He could just be here to see if you two were here," you pointed out and Rick jerked at the thought. 

"He owned me. But not anymore," Dwight said simply. "What I did? I was doing it for someone else." 

"What happened to Sherry?" Merle spoke up for the first time, and he actually sounded worried. Not about Dwight, mind, but about Sherry. 

Oh. Oh, shit. That was right; Dwighty boy's wife had married Negan to keep Dwight alive. 

"She got away. So now I'm here. So are you because of her. She's the one who let you out." 

Well, it was nice to have that suspicion confirmed. Daryl had thought that was the case, and Merle had told you that she was nice to him. If she'd helped your boys, you owed her; and if she'd helped Daryl get out? Well, you hoped she was happy out there, where ever she was. You still wanted to kill Dwight.

You saw as Daryl thought about it, and Tara egged him on. Dwight kept talking, though, and he made a damn good case for himself. And it wasn't as if Merle hadn't done the same thing- worked for Negan to keep someone else safe. The only difference between Merle and Dwight was Merle was yours and you trusted him. 

Fuck. Maybe you shouldn't hate old Dwighty as much as you did. Nah, he was still wearing Daryl's wings, and that was unforgivable.

Daryl dropped the knife. 

 

"They have Sasha, if she's even still alive," Rosita said the minute Daryl put the knife down.

Umm, where the hell was that information when you'd gotten there? 

"The fuck?" you snapped, whirling on her. "Why didn't you say something?" 

"He could be our only chance to get her back," Jesus agreed grimly, nodding in Dwight's direction.

Ok, you wouldn't go that far. Hell, you had Merle. Merle knew as much about their factory and their set up as Dwight did. That's not to say having someone on the inside wouldn't be useful, because it damn well would have been. But it had to be someone you trusted, and you did not trust Dwighty boy at all. 

"Because I don't trust him," Rosita snapped in an unknowing echo of your own thoughts. "But I trust Daryl." 

"Negan's coming soon," Dwight spoke up. "Tomorrow. Three trucks, probably. Twenty Saviors and him." 

"Tomorrow? Son of a bitch. Rick?" you muttered, wheels already turning. It was late; how were you going to get a message to all of your allies in time to- 

"Yeah," Rick agreed, and Dwight spoke up again. 

"I can slow them down. Bring down some trees in the road; buy a little time for you guys to get ready. If you can take them down, that's where we start. You kill them, I'll radio back to the Sanctuary, say everything's ok. You drive the trucks back, I can get everyone right inside. And, with the right plan, we can wipe out the rest." 

Shit. Shit, that was actually workable. You, Rick, and Daryl exchanged looks, and you knew you were all thinking the same thing. 

If Dwight was on the up and up, it could work. 

"Get the workers on our side, build our numbers up. Go from outpost to outpost and end this," he added, and damn if that didn't appeal. Those outposts were the real problem in all of this. 

You stepped right into his face, meeting his eyes. "Keep talking," you said grimly, and Tara snorted in disgust behind you. 

 

 

You held a council of war in your house that night, and you couldn't stop smiling. You were plotting how to kill a bunch of people and take over a place completely, and all you could do was sit there and beam around the room. Carl was eating something as he wandered back from your kitchen yelling at Jesus, and he dropped a bottle of water in front of his dad as he went. Rick absently twisted the top off, took a swallow, and handed it to Michonne, who was bending over his shoulder to look at one of your lists. Merle was arguing from beside you to Rosita further down the table about the proper way to rig explosives, and you had a feeling you were learning more about what he did in the army than you'd ever expected to. Tara was silent and staring at the map in the middle of the table, and Jesus waited until Carl was back on his side to counter Carl's yelled observation about the Savior's group intelligence levels with cautionary advice about underestimating your opponents.

These were your people, and they were filling up your house with noise again, and you were just so damn happy. 

"What are you smilin' at so hard, woman?" Daryl growled at you finally, after he asked you a question for what you guiltily realized was the third time. Conversation around the table stopped as people looked over at you. You blushed a little and shrugged. 

"You're home," you said simply, looking at Daryl as tears suddenly welled up in your eyes. "You and Merle, you're home. It feels like home again, and we're making a plan. We're going to win, we're going to kill that bastard, and- you're home." 

Daryl's face softened as he touched your cheek gently. "Yeah, woman. We're home. And we're gonna kill him." 

"Damn straight, little sister," Merle chimed in, and you turned your smile to him as a tear slipped down your cheek. He leaned over and brushed it off your face before ruffling your hair. "Come on now, girlie. We need our damn general. Get ya head in the game, darlin'," he demanded gruffly. 

"Ok, ok. Fine! Sorry; I'm a girl. I'm allowed to act it sometimes," you teased, and Rick and Carl laughed from further down the table. 

Jesus cracked a smile as you stuck your tongue out at Carl and reached for the map again. 

"Ok, according to Fuck Face in there-" 

"Lord, YN," Rick muttered, and you shot him a look. 

"I hate that asshole, Rick. He's wearing Daryl's damn vest." 

"Why do I think ya hate him more for that alone than anything else he's done, little sister?" Merle drawled, amused. 

"Probably because I do. Only person who gets to wear Daryl's vest but him is me," you answered cheerfully. "I don't know if I trust him, not really. But if what he told us is true, there's lookouts here, here, here-" 

And you got to work. The night was more than halfway over. Carl had sacked out on the couch; Merle was snoring in his chair; and you, Jesus, Daryl, and Rick were still discussing possibilities and contingency plans- but it was time to get into motion.

"We ready, boys?" you asked, and Rick shrugged. 

"We started this whole thing hours ago." 

"If he's lyin', I'm gonna kill him real slow," Daryl growled. "And when it's over, I don't care if he's sorry. I will kill that son of a bitch." 

"If he's lying, this is already over," Rick answered grimly, and, well. 

There wasn't anything any of you could say to that one. 

 

Jesus left with Judith for the Hilltop, to warn Maggie and get things set up there. You'd decided- or rather Rick had- to keep the Hilltop out of it, so there was another card to play if things went wrong. You knew Maggie'd be pissed about that, but you hoped she'd listen. 

Your Dixon trio had gone around reinforcing all the places that needed it and setting up as much as you could at home. Rick and Michonne went to get the garbage people, and you were really glad that you didn't have to go with them, because you seriously hated that place. Plus, it gave you a few spare hours with nothing to do until your allies arrived. 

You knew how you were going to spend them. 

 

Daryl had zero objections to being drug into your room, kicking the door closed behind you and practically tossing you down into the pile of blankets and pillows that had replaced your mattress. You were giggling like crazy, fingers fumbling with your belt as he opened the door again and yelled out into the house. 

"Merle!" 

"What?" came Merle's faint response, and you were laughing even harder when Daryl yelled back. 

"Don't light the damn place on fire, and don't nobody need us for the next hour or so!" 

Merle's raucous laugh filtered down from the attic, followed by some suggestions that turned Daryl's ears pink before he called his brother a disgusting asshole and slammed the door shut again, locking it this time. You'd finally managed to get your belt off and tossed to the side, but you had only one boot off and you were laughing too hard to do the other one as Daryl flopped down beside you, muttering about not getting any damn peace around here. 

The house had been quiet for too damn long with only you in it, though, and you never wanted peace again. Just this, just all of you here and safe and together, even if it meant you could never have sex again without Merle making suggestions or comments or rude gestures when you came out. 

Hell, he'd been doing that since you'd shown up in Alexandria anyway, so it wasn't like this was anything new.

Daryl shook his head as you laid there and laughed, reaching down to tug your shoe off himself before leaning over you with a gleam in his eyes. You reached for him, tugging him down by the shirt until he captured your lips with a little growl. A few seconds later, you were too busy doing other things to be laughing, like tangling your fingers in Daryl's hair and arching into his hands on your skin as he slid them under your shirt- his shirt, really- and tugging the shirt off his shoulders in return, and-

And then Merle yelled for the two of you to get your asses out of there. 

 

 

"I swear to God, Merle, if ya actually set the damn house on fire-" Daryl yelled, his hair sticking up and his shirt unbuttoned as he flung open the door and stalked down the hallway. 

You were giggling again, just as disheveled as he was, but you picked up your belt and buckled it back around your hips as you followed him to the top of the stairs. Merle was leaning against the wall there, a shit eating grin on his face, and Carl stood a few steps down, face red and looking incredibly uncomfortable. 

"Uh, sorry. I told him not to both you guys, that it wasn't a big deal," he muttered, looking away from the two of you as Daryl scowled. You smacked Daryl on the arm. 

"Be nice, Dixon. What's up, Carl? It's cool," you told him, and Daryl muttered something under his breath that sounded an awful lot like 'no it damn well isn't'. 

You ignored him. 

"Uh, it's just- people are starting to ask questions, and Dad and Michonne left to bring back the garbage people, and it seems like someone should start telling everybody something, you know? But I didn't know what you wanted us to tell people," he finished, meeting your eyes now as the initial embarrassment wore off. 

Daryl swore under his breath and started buttoning his shirt. "I'll get ya shoes, woman," he said in tones of deep resignation, and you smothered a laugh as he stalked back up the hallway, muttering about never getting a damn minute to breathe and next time he just wasn't going to open the fucking door. 

Merle was less nice than you, bellowing out that raucous laugh you loved and winking at you as Daryl flipped him off from the hallway. 

 

 

You went from house to house, knocking on doors and letting people know that things were happening and what to expect. Mostly you just told people to keep their heads down and their kids close, and be ready to defend themselves if they needed to. 

Nearly everyone was happy about the fact that shit was finally going to happen, since no one had enjoyed the Savior's little visits so far, but not all of them were. Some were scared, some questioned why you were fighting on your own territory instead of taking it to them, and some questioned why you were even fighting at all. You know, the usual mixed bag of humanity. 

You made your explanations and reassurances, and on the rare occasion that they didn't settle down, you issued orders. Those were followed, even if with frowns. 

And then the gates opened and the garbage people had arrived. 

 

 

They came in trash trucks and on bicycles, and you didn't think you'd seen anything weirder in your life than a small army of utterly silent people with big ass guns rising out of empty trash trucks. 

"What the fuck?" Daryl muttered beside you, and you chuckled. 

"Yeah, you should have seen Winslow. Winslow was a treat," you said softly to him. 

"Winslow where ya got that gash on your leg? The spiked up walker?" he asked, and you heard the anger in his voice. You ran a hand down his arm in a soothing gesture. 

"Yeah. Water under the bridge now, Dixon. Come on, there's Rick and Michonne," you said with a nod, and Merle strolled up as you headed to Rick's side.


	53. It Almost Always Goes Wrong By Step Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> Negan being Negan

"What you fight for," Jadis said, looking around appreciatively. 

"Not the place, but each other," you answered, smiling at Rick and Michonne as you reached their side. 

"You're a part of that now, " Rick agreed with a nod toward Jadis. 

"We take, we don't bother- our way. Maybe another way," she said with an arch look in his direction. 

"You sure do talk strange, lady," Merle drawled at her, and you saw the lips of one of Jadis' people twitch. Jadis herself didn't do more than flick her eyes at Merle and back to Rick. 

After a pause she glanced at Michonne. "Yours?" she asked, jerking her head in Rick's direction. 

Michonne gave you a slightly wild look, and you raised your eyebrows at her in a silent, 'well, is he?'. "We're together," she answered Jadis cautiously. 

Jadis nodded. "I lay with him after. You care?" 

Merle's raucous laugh boomed out and you struggled to hold your own laughter in at the terrified look on Rick's face. Michonne's lips twitched as she looked at Rick and Rick gave her a 'save me' glance. 

"We should get back to work," Michonne suggested, and Rick nodded in agreement as they both backed away from Jadis slowly. 

 

 

Daryl and Merle went to wire explosives into the van outside the gates. Michonne started directing the garbage people to their places, and you and Rick made final rounds. 

Then you waited, but it didn't take long. 

It was fairly simple overall: blow up the truck outside, taking down as many of them as you could, then light up the rest, half of you on the wall and the other half moving through the gate once the others were down. 

Daryl and Merle had argued for you to be back, a sniper outside of the main action like Michonne, and you had shut them the fuck down. Unfortunately, that meant when they'd bargained you up onto the wall instead of being down on the ground with them, you were already at a disadvantage. When Rick said having you up there to throw Negan off before you detonated would be helpful, you knew you'd lost. 

So you were standing on the platform with Rick and Jadis when the trucks arrived, Carl and some of the others strung out on the rapidly constructed path along the top of the wall. You'd argued that Carl shouldn't be involved at all, more out of petulance than anything else, and he'd shot you one withering look and told you to bite him. Daryl and Merle were on the ground, with Rosita and Tara and Aaron and Eric and whole bunch of others, and the garbage people were dispersed among yours. 

You were ready. But there was something you hadn't planned on. 

Eugene. 

 

 

"All points are covered. Every contingency is already met. I come armed with two barrels of truth. I come armed with two barrels of the truth. A test is upon you, and I'm giving out the cheat sheet." 

He was standing on the back of a flatbed truck with something strapped to it and covered with a sheet, dressed in all black and with a megaphone. 

Son of a bitch. 

"H-hello," he said into the megaphone as you and Rick exchanged glances. "I come salved with the hope that it is my dropped knowledge that you heed. Options are zero to none." 

You raised an eyebrow at him, and you knew he saw. He sure didn't look like he'd been through the same shit Daryl did, and you had to hand it to Negan. Bastard knew people. Knew when they'd need breaking, and when, apparently, they'd simply roll over and switch sides. 

"Shit, Mullet," you whispered sadly, knowing he wasn't one of your people anymore. Knowing he was probably going to die. 

"Compliance and fealty are your only escape," he continued. "Bottom lining it- you may thrive, or you may die." 

You glanced down and saw Daryl and Merle shaking their heads as they glanced at him and each other, and Rosita and Tara looking shaken and sad. They knew it too, knew he'd gone to the dark side and there was nothing you could do to save him now. 

"I sincerely wish for the former, for everyone's sake," he kept going, and you sighed. "The jig is up and in full effect." 

Well, this shit was going to hurt every one of your people. Eugene was a weird, mostly useless little shit, but he'd been your weird, mostly useless little shit. One of you, and that made him family. Until now. 

"Will you comply, Rick? YN?" 

Jadis, hidden behind the wall in a crouch beside you, looked at the two of you. You looked at Rick and his eyes were sad. 

"Where's Negan?" you called, and Eugene lowered the megaphone as he looked at you. 

"I'm Negan." 

Fuck. 

 

 

You sighed and looked at Rick, who closed his eyes as if the words physically hurt him. You saw him struggling and touched the back of his hand behind the wall where Eugene couldn't see, and looked down at Rosita's angry, upturned face and nodded. 

She nodded back, you saw her finger press down, and you and Rick hit the deck as- 

Well, as nothing happened but the two of you looking at each other in confusion. 

What the fuck? That was the cue for the big bada-boom, that would take out like half their people, hopefully some trucks and Negan himself, and theoretically not your walls. 

Instead, there was silence and confusion for half a second before you realized the only explanation. Betrayal. 

You and Rick whirled and grabbed for your guns at the same time, but it was too late. Jadis shot to her feet, already holding her gun steady at Rick's head. That was her signal, and her people all moved at the same time, weapons trained on yours. 

You were a fool. An idiotic fucking fool who hadn't even anticipated this coming. After everything- the Governor, the Claimers, the Terminus fucking cannibals and the Saviors themselves- you hadn't even considered betrayal. You hadn't thought to wonder why her people had aligned themselves so carefully, slipping into the spaces between and behind yours. Some general you were. 

"You're dead," you murmured grimly to Jadis, and she smirked at you. 

"Think not. Hands." 

You put your hands up and risked a quick glance. Daryl and Merle had their pointed away and were staring down the barrels of the garbage people's weapons. Carl was still in his place on the wall, but some other walking dead fool had a gun to the back of his head. No one else was in much better shape, and the gate creaked open at the hands of Brion on the outside. 

Fucking hell. 

You'd expected to get at least a little further into the plan before things fell apart quite so completely. Usually step one went off without a hitch, and it was at step two that things started to go sideways. 

 

 

And there he was, head dick himself, as Jadis motioned both you and Rick to your feet. He looked up at you and smiled. 

"Hello, princess. You ever hear the one about the stupid little prick named Rick who thought he knew shit but didn't know shit and got everyone that he gave a shit about killed? It's about you," he said with a grin as he pointed at Rick. 

The damn bat was on his shoulder and he had that look in his eyes, the one he'd gotten when you'd offered to go back to the Sanctuary with him to save Eugene. Like he was pleased and pissed off and turned on all at once, and you had the feeling people were going to start dying, possibly beginning with you. 

"You're gonna wanna put your guns down now," he added, winking at you as he swept the people on the ground with his gaze. 

"No one drops anything," Rick growled out, and you were delighted by it even as you were stressed the fuck out by it, considering the gun currently pointed at your temple. He turned to Jadis and snarled. "We had a deal." 

"Tamiel came for the boat things. Followed ones who took. Made a better deal." 

Rick scoffed, shaking his head as he tried to find a way out of this. You were planning the order in which you'd kill people, and Tamiel and Jadis had jumped to the top of your list. 

Assuming, of course, you lived. 

"You push me, and you push me. And you push me, Rick. And I am extremely disappointed in you too, princess!" Negan called. "You just tried to blow us up, right? I mean, I get me, my people. But Eugene? He's one of yours. Princess there offered to come with me and be my wife to save him, and now you're just going to blow him to heaven?" 

"No, probably to hell," you muttered, and Jadis actually cracked a tiny smile at that. 

"And after what he did- he stepped up! You people are animals. Universe gives you a sign, and you just shove your finger right up its ass. Now, there's a lot of things I plan on doing to your ass, darlin', but we'll get to that in a minute. Dwight, Simon- chop chop." Negan's voice was amused and he looked smug as Fuck-Face Doublecrossing Dwight and Simon the Smiling Shit climbed up onto the flatbed. 

They took off the straps and flipped back the sheet and revealed- 

Holy shit, was that a coffin? 

You had a bad feeling about this.


	54. Just Once You'd Like A Fair Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> major character death  
> cannon typical violence  
> cannon divergence

They stood the coffin up on its end, doors facing you. Did they call them doors? Lid? What the hell ever, when the thing opened- and you were afraid that was going to be very soon- it would open so you could see the inside. 

You really didn't think you wanted to see what was inside. 

Negan climbed up onto the truck bed beside it, Lucille dangling from one hand. "So you don't like Eugene anymore. You guys gotta like Sasha. I do, too. Got big old lady balls, same as you, princess. Hell, you two were probably good friends, right?" 

Ha! Well, he was wrong about something. You and Sasha pretty much just tolerated each other. But right now, that didn't matter. Because one thing you knew for sure- Sasha wouldn't kneel to Negan. Sasha was still one of your people. 

"Got her right here, packaged for your convenience," Negan continued, tapping Lucille against the coffin. "Alive and well. Now, I brought her so I wouldn't have to kill all of you, and not killing all of you could get complicated." 

Shit, Sasha was in there alive. You didn't know if that was better or worse than him delivering you an already-boxed corpse. It was better, because there was still a chance. Worse because holy shit that was terrifying. 

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Carl and the others on the wall standing slowly, and you hoped the kid wouldn't do anything stupid. 

"See, I know there's a lot of firepower left in there, Rick. So I'm gonna make this simple. I want all the guns you've managed to scrape up. Yep, I know about those too. I want every last grain of lemonade you've got left." 

What the fuck? He wanted lemonade? Man, this asshole could really be a petty dick. Suddenly, you remembered him picking up decor in Rick's house and moving it inches in either direction and the lemonade thing wasn't so surprising after all. Definitely a petty dick, you thought with a little huff of a laugh. Rick gave you a glance from the corner of his eye and Jadis didn't even move. Rick looked slightly worried, like you were about to do something crazy. 

Alright, you had a gun trained on you, Negan outside making a speech, and all your friends were very close to being dead, and you were laughing. Something crazy was a fair worry.

"I want a person of your own choosing for Lucille," Negan continued, pointing at the bat and smirking at Rick. "Daryl," he added, glancing through the gate and grinning. "Ooh, I gotta get me my Daryl back. Merle's going to die because he was one of mine and betrayed me. After I saved his ass and made him a Savior himself! That's just ungrateful."

Daryl was glaring when you risked a glance at them, but Merle looked utterly unconcerned, big ass gun dangling limply from his hand. You focused back on Negan as his eyes swung up to you. 

"And I see you, princess. You will be coming back with me, too, and I will be taking you up on that little offer you made last time I saw you. Wife," he said slowly, and you shivered at the look in his eyes. "And I'll be taking the pool table, and all the pool cues and chalk. And I want it now, or Sasha dies. And then all of you- probably. C'mon, Rick," he said with a grin. "Just because I brought her in a casket doesn't mean she has to leave in it." 

Rick said nothing, and Negan sighed. "You know what, Rick? You suck ass, you really do. I don't want to have to kill her, but that's exactly what you're gonna make me do, isn't it?" 

"Let me see her," you finally said, stepping forward a little. 

Negan chuckled. "There you are, princess. Don't lose that fire, darlin'. You're gonna need it tonight. Just give me a second. I might have to get her up to speed. You can't hear shit inside these things." He turned and knocked on the coffin. 

"Sash. You're not gonna believe this crap," he said, easing the door open. 

 

 

"Holy goddamn!" he yelped, and your heart stopped for a moment as zombie Sasha came snarling out and knocked him off the fucking truck. 

Your brain took a minute to process what had just happened. Sasha was dead and had turned, and undead walker Sasha was inches away from sinking her teeth into Negan's face and you were pretty fucking proud. 

Holy goddamn was right. 

 

 

Carl chose that moment to make his move, and you had to hand it to the kid- it was smooth. Everyone was staring as zombie Sasha tried to much on Negan's face. Carl ripped his handgun from his holster and fired twice, taking down two of the garbage people before your brain kicked into survival mode as pandemonium fell over Alexandria. 

You and Rick exchanged a sharp look and you knew what he wanted, so you took a running start and jumped over onto the platform beside Carl, yanking your own gun out as you went. You shot at another of the garbage fucks, clipping him in the shoulder- hey, you were shooting on the fly, and he went down, didn't he?- and rolling as you hit. You sprang up by Carl and shot him a grin. 

"Hey, Grimes. Now what?" you asked cheerfully, and he rolled his eyes at you as he scooped up his rifle again. 

"Shut up, Troublemaker. This is serious shit," he snapped, and hit the deck on the walkway to start taking out as many as he could to cover the gate group's retreat. 

"Yeah, you're probably right," you agreed as you followed him, kicking one of the bodies of the garbage shits down to make room. "Take them out till ours get away, then head down? This ain't the best place to be, kiddo." 

He grunted, and you risked a glance over at Rick just in time to see Jadis shoot him in the side. 

"Fuck!" you snapped. "Kid, we gotta move. Now. Come on," you added as Saviors started pouring through the gates. 

You pushed him down the ladder ahead of you, dropping a couple Saviors as you did, and you muttered under your breath as Jadis kicked Rick off the platform and looked at you. She raised the gun and you made a split decision that you'd probably regret. But hey, anything was better than dying. 

Well, that wasn't entirely true. 

Either way, you took a rapid header off the walkway, tucking and rolling as you hit the ground with a groan. You ignored the spreading flare of pain in your shoulder and hauled yourself to your feet, Carl reaching your side and yelling at you about fucking crazy Dixons as he stood back to back with you. 

"Hey, watch who you're calling crazy, Grimes!" you said back, shooting into the oncoming Savior horde. "You started this shit!" 

"How the hell you think that?" he yelled back as he fired and the two of you started making your way toward the nearest building for cover. It was a long fucking way, and you were pretty sure you weren't going to make it. Damn it. 

"You shot first!" you called back, glancing at him and grinning. 

"Oh my God, for real?" he said with a roll of his eyes. "You're pretty fucked up, you know that?" 

"Yeah, yeah, love you too, Grimes," you said cheerfully as you dropped another Savior. 

Then your gun clicked. Shit. 

"I'm out," you told him, and he grunted. 

"Grab mine," he offered, and you swung a hand toward his holster, but there was nothing there. 

"Shit! It's back on the walkway," you told him grimly. 

"Fuck!" he echoed your earlier sentiment as you pulled your knife and got ready for the rough shit. Then he pulled the trigger again and you heard the second click.

"Language, Grimes," you told him softly, both of you knowing unless you got better cover and more guns, you were done for. You'd lost sight of basically all of your people, and you started to feel like it was just the two of you left standing. And that wasn't going to fucking be for long, since there were groups coming up on at least three sides and absolutely nowhere to hide on the fourth side.

"Come on, you two, it's over. We've got guns and you're out. Make it easy on yourselves- Negan's going to want you both," a voice said gruffly from your left, and then they were on you. 

Shit.


	55. The Taste of Shit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
> cannon divergence  
> threat of rape/non con

You glared at Dwight and Simon both, but you glared at Dwight the most. Bastard had been lying to you the whole time, and even worse, he was still wearing Daryl's fucking wings. Asshole.

Some of your people were dead on the road, on the grass, all around you, but there were just as many- if not more- Saviors down. You felt a fierce swell of pride for your people. It was nice to know they could defend themselves, after you were gone. You and Carl were on your knees, surrounded by Saviors, and there wasn't going to be an escape this time. You knew it, and from the look on Carl's face, he knew it too. He looked over at you as you turned and looked at him. 

"Love you, Troublemaker," he said with a tiny smile. 

"Shut up, kid!" snapped Dwight, and you glared back at him. 

"Hey, Fuck-face! Pick on someone your own size!" you snarled, and he crouched to your level. 

"Like you?" he asked softly, and you sneered at him, eyeing his split lip and letting him see how much you enjoyed seeing it. 

"I said your own size, not someone bigger than you," you teased. 

Negan's chuckle came from behind you and you tensed involuntarily. "She's a pistol, Dwighty-boy," he said, and Dwight rose and backed off, giving you a look you couldn't quite read. 

Jadis was walking a limping Rick up the road at gunpoint, and your heart clenched a little at the look on his face when he saw you and Carl. 

Rick had been here before. Rick had seen Carl on his knees and Negan standing over him. Rick had been forced to watch as Negan killed your friends; had almost had to cut off his own kid's hand to keep people alive. 

You didn't know what was going to happen next, but you knew Rick might never come back from it if it went like you were afraid it was going to. 

"Hello again," Negan said softly to Rick. 

 

Jadis shoved Rick onto the ground on the other side of Carl. 

"Well, shit Rick. Just couldn't stick with us, huh? Had to go with these filthy garbage people," Negan said, then glanced at Jadis. "No offense."

"Deal is for twelve, yes?" Jadis said, utterly unmoved by the insult. 

"Ten. People are a resource," Negan countered, and what the ever-loving fuck that meant, you did not know. 

You didn't think you wanted to know. 

"Twelve." 

Negan stared, and after a moment Jadis nodded. "Ten." 

She walked away, and Negan laughed. 

"Rick. This is just gonna make you sad. Broken. You're gonna wish you were dead. You, too, princess- I think I know what this'll do to you. You'll be sad. You might wish you were dead. But I'll bring the life back to you, I promise," he said with a leer and a wink. 

You were already wishing you were dead as your stomach churned and an old, familiar panic began to rise. Fuck. 

"I like having fun. I do. But maybe you think the guy who did what he did to your friends wasn't me, like that was some sort of a put-on, like I'm not the guy with the bat, I'm just the guy that makes your kid spaghetti!" 

Rick glanced at you and you read his silent apology in his eyes. You gave the faintest shake of your head and smiled, just a touch, back at him. There was nothing for him to apologize for. What would happen would happen, and Negan was right- no matter how much you might wish you were dead for awhile, you'd have at least one thing to live for. 

Negan's death. 

"Oh, shit," Negan said dramatically, raising his hand to his forehead as Rick turned his glare on Negan. "Maybe this is on me. Maybe this is all on me. I gotta make it right. I guess I gotta start all over. I gotta tell you, Rick- if I had a kid, I'd want him to be just like your kid, which makes this so much harder." 

No. No, no, no. 

You'd known. You'd known as soon as you'd been captured. But you hadn't wanted to believe, and now the wave of panic was beating on your mind and flooding into your lungs. 

Carl. 

Your head shot around and you fixed Negan with a glare as you battled back the panic. It didn't matter what he did to you. He could throw you in the cell, throw you in one of those little black dresses and shove you into his bed, give you over to his Saviors as their pet, kill you outright- you didn't give a damn. But Carl- 

"You're not gonna win," Carl told him, fearless even in the face of what he knew was coming. 

"Carl," Negan said, and you heard the pride in his voice. "It is over. Why don't you point your one ball up the street there and take it all in?" 

"Rule number one, asshole." You found your voice in the face of Carl's own bravery, and it was a cold and deadly whisper. Negan met your eyes, and he blinked once before he let out a low whistle. 

"Hot damn, princess. That look in your eyes right there- I can think of a whole lot of things to do while you've got it, mmm! I know all about your rule, darlin'. You're about to get a lesson in mine," he said, his voice hardening as he spoke. 

Someone fell screaming from the apartments, and your heart stopped. 

Michonne. Oh, God, Michonne. 

No. 

You turned to Rick and Carl, and their faces held the same shattered look you felt inside. You were crying now, and Rick's eyes had that red rim around them that scared the shit out of you.

"Ohh," Negan said with a chuckle as the three of you looked at each other, hearts in your throats and pain in your eyes. "Wow." 

He crouched in front of Rick. "You just lost somebody important to you- right now, like just now. Jesus. That is timing. Well, Rick, you chose this. I truly don't know what more I could've done to warn you." 

Rick was glaring at him, those red eyes burning into Negan's skull with the force of their hate. You turned your eyes to Carl and found him looking back at you. There was pain in his face- and fear and grief- and you tried to blink back your own tears and give him some encouragement. You tried to smile, but he shook his head at you so you stopped. You settled for holding his gaze steady in your own, not sure who was giving who strength.

"This isn't a warning. This is punishment. I'm gonna kill Carl now. I'm gonna make it one nice, hard swing; try to do it in one because I like him. I just want you to let that in your brain and roll it around for a minute. You too, princess, because make no mistake, you are being punished just as surely as Ricky-dicky here is. I'm gonna kill Carl, and then Lucille here, she's gonna take Rick's hands." 

Your eyes never left Carl's face, and he didn't look anything but sad until that moment. His eyes widened in panic and he started to speak as his head turned to Negan, but the asshole wasn't finished. 

"Then I'm going to take the princess with me. And I'm going to do every damn thing to her that I have been thinking about doing since I laid eyes on her feisty ass, until she screams my name. And she'll love every minute of it, because she will know that every moment she spends with me spares your miserable life for another day. She will be a perfectly dutiful and willing wife- but not too willing, if you know what I mean. Then it wouldn't be half as fun! How does that sound, princess? Want to keep Rick alive?" 

Well, frankly, it sounded like you'd rather be dead. But to keep Rick alive? And maybe, if you played it right at this exact moment, you could save Carl too?

"I'll do anything you want, Negan. Anything. Spare Carl," you answered immediately, voice soft and meek and desperate. 

"Nope, sorry princess. Too late for him. But keep that spirit, darlin'- you're gonna need it," he said with an evil grin in your direction. 

You looked away from Negan with a sneer and turned back to Carl. The kid looked terrified, and your heart hurt that it wasn't him he was scared for; it was you and Rick. He wasn't scared to die. He was a fucking teenager, told he was going to have his head beaten in with that damn bat- something he'd seen happen in front of him to other people- and he was scared for you and Rick.

Fucking hell, he broke your heart. 

"How about it, Rick?" Negan said softly. "You understand what's happening now?" 

"You can do it right in front of me. You can take my hands. You can take her. I told you already- I'm gonna kill you," Rick snarled into Negan's face, and your eyes left Carl for long enough to stare at Rick in awe. There was the man who'd ripped someone's throat out with his teeth. There was the man with nothing left to lose, because he was about to lose it all. 

And when Rick thought he had nothing to lose, he was at his most deadly. 

"I'm gonna kill you. All of you. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but nothing is gonna change that- nothing." He leaned into Negan's face and whispered. "You're already dead." 

Goddamn, Cowboy. You almost believed he would find a way out of this. 

Negan stared, and then he laughed. "Alright. You said I could do it." 

Just like that, he was standing behind Carl and knocking the hat off of his head, and Carl was taking a deep breath and closing his eyes and you were about to throw yourself over him, because that was all you had left as an option: taking the blow yourself- 

When suddenly, there was the tiger. 

 

 

There was screaming, and Shiva was eating someone's face- holy fuck, holy fuck, what?- and people on horseback and in body armor were streaming in. 

"End these Saviors and their accomplices!" Ezekiel was screaming as he strode in gun blazing, Carol armed and armored and looking freaking pissed at his side. "Alexandria will not fall! Not on this day!" 

Rick started moving first, an you were right behind him, but you were just a hair too slow. You didn't know if it was fear for Carl, the rising tide of panic you'd been slowly drowning in, or just plain bad fucking luck, but you started to scramble for Carl. You didn't make it.

"I don't think so, princess," Negan growled as he grabbed you by the waist and shoved you into the waiting grasp of Dwight and Simon. "Come the fuck with me." 

You fought, but there was nothing you could do. They had you, even as they fell back toward the gates. You watched the tide of the battle going in your people's favor, and holy shit. You were grinning, not caring that you were probably going to die, because look at them. Look at them. 

Carol was a one woman army of her own, firing shot after shot and nailing them all. You remembered taking over the prison, and her laughing with you and Daryl and Rick and Lori and Carl and the others around the fire as she admitted that the shot that nearly hit Rick's feet had been her. She didn't miss one head now.

Then there were Ezekiel and Jerry, both decent shots on their own, but just look at the picture they made: armored, Ezekiel's dreads and robes swinging with him, Jerry with the massive ax on his back ready to go.

And Maggie- Maggie who had been told to stay home but came striding in, taking out the Savior standing over Rick, gun gripped in both hands and yelling out orders as the Hilltop's people flooded the scene. Enid and Jesus were on either side of her, faces grim. Enid stayed glued to Maggie's side and your heart swelled, knowing Maggie was well protected with Enid's fierce loyalty. Jesus wore his ninja coat but not the bandanna over his face as he moved into the fray like the ninja you called him. 

And just as you were shoved onto the ground face first behind a car, you caught a glimpse of him. 

Daryl was with her, and you would be fine. You would be fine. 

You went on believing that as Negan laughed angrily, shooting out at the swarming forces that came to your people's rescue. He snarled as he turned to you and hauled you up to shove you forward. 

"That widow is alive, guns a-blazin'! Darlin', you have got a lot to answer for! You taste that, Simon? That is the taste of shit!" 

You believed he'd reach you right up until the smoke started filling the air and Simon and Dwight shoved you ahead of them through the gate and into the truck. 

You believed he'd get to you until you saw Daryl standing on the roof of a truck, eyes wide and angry and shocked, as Negan grabbed you and shoved your face into the truck window as Simon floored it with his remaining forces. His lips moved, but you couldn't hear him, and then he was gone. Or maybe you were.


	56. Burn The Rest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mentions of past rape/non con  
> mentions of past torture  
> mentions of past racist comments (thanks, Dixons)  
> past major character death finally being dealt with

Well, this cell was worse than you'd imagined. 

You paced the tiny room, a mere three steps both ways, and those weren't very big ones. God, you were bored. You were bored and you were pissed, too.

Getting picked up and hauled around like the princess in some damn story who always needed rescuing. Jesus, you'd never been more disgusted with yourself. Daryl and Merle had gotten out, and that was supposed to allow your people the freedom to do whatever they needed to do, damn it. And now you were in this cave, and the Dixon boys were going to fuck someone up. 

You just hoped it wasn't each other. They had a tendency to take shit out on each other, and while you got it- there was an unwavering faith beneath it all for them that the other one would always have their back- it sucked to watch. Of course you wouldn't have to this time, would you? 

Because you let yourself get taken captive. Like a moron. 

 

Time was meaningless in the darkness, and you knew damn well it couldn't have been as long as it felt since you were tossed in here, because it felt like days. But no one had opened the door- not even once- and so far you hadn't gotten hungry. So it was probably more like hours than days. 

Fucking hell, this might be actual hell.

You hated being locked somewhere and told to wait. The last time you'd been caged like this- because no matter what name you put on it, this was a goddamn cage- was Terminus. You thought. Yeah, you were pretty sure there hadn't been any since then. At least in Terminus, however, there had been the others stuck in there with you. 

You smiled fondly, picturing Daryl's laughter as Carl teased you about getting a nickname of your own and feeling his arm around you as you fell asleep; Merle's easy drawl when you woke up, heart pounding from a nightmare, and the love in his voice when he talked about you and his brother. Yeah, that wait had been good, even if the almost-throat-slashing thing hadn't been so good after.

To be fair to here, there was no blaring pop song like Daryl'd told you about. That shit would've pushed you over the damn edge into stark raving lunacy in about two seconds flat. Plus, they'd let you keep your clothes. Which, frankly, was.... surprising. 

After all, the first time you'd been left to wait in a cell had been the Governor, and you remembered how that had turned out. And Negan had been extremely clear in his intentions toward you. 

Though he hadn't said anything to you on the drive over, or anyone in particular, really. Mostly he was quiet, breaking his silence only to deliver an explosion of creative profanity before lapsing back into silent brooding out the window. Simon and Dwight were exchanging tense as hell looks, and no one was paying any attention to you. When you'd arrived, Negan had shoved you in Dwight's direction and yelled 'cell!' and that was it. 

You were stuffed into this black hole and the door was locked behind you. And here you'd stayed. For however fucking long it had been.

 

You slept, fitfully, leaning against the wall in the corner. You wondered if this was where Daryl had slept, what little he'd been able to. You wondered what was going on here in the Sanctuary, outside this silent darkness. 

You wondered what was going on back home. 

Home. The word sent a pang through you and you curled your knees into your chest a little tighter against the empty feeling looming inside. You'd already had one full-on panic attack; all lack of air and a hand around your throat and the table in the Governor's shed rising up to meet your face- 

Ugh. You wanted something- anything- to happen. Even being at Negan's mercy would have been better than this shit. At least you could have gotten some information; had a prayer of maybe finding a way to kill him or a way out. Either would do. You weren't picky. 

It was sitting there with nothing but you and the blackness that would drive you mad, probably faster than it ever would have Daryl. Being alone with your thoughts wasn't something you were good at anymore. Too much had happened, and you needed motion and action to keep you treading water, at least until you were safe to slip under and lose yourself in the grief and the fear.

You hadn't let yourself properly grieve Glenn, what with everything that had been happening since Rick had told you. This place- well, it was forcing you too. You closed your eyes, tipped your head back, and cried as you thought about Glenn. 

 

"So there I am, in the middle of Atlanta, just out of a coma with no idea what the hell is goin' on, and the only way away from all these walkers is to crawl up into this tank, right? And I do," Rick said, waving his bottle of water in one hand as he grinned, face animated as he told the story. Lori leaned into Rick's side, staring into the fire like she was pissed off that Rick was talking about all this, while Carl hung on his dad's every word. 

Daryl was on top of the RV keeping watch, and you shot a quick glance up at him as laughter ran through the rest of the group, watching his silhouette turn slowly against the night sky. A groan from Glenn brought your attention back to Rick's story, and you smiled at Glenn's embarrassed expression as he ducked his head. 

"... And my ears are ringin' 'cause only an idiot fires a gun in a damn tank, and I'm thinkin' this is it. I'm dying here, like this. Out of nowhere, a radio crackles and I hear this voice- this voice saying-" Rick interrupts himself laughing, and Glenn grins as he mumbles along with Rick. 

"'Hey, you. Dumb ass. Hey, you in the tank. Cozy in there?'" 

You laughed, long and loud, and Glenn grinned at you while the others chuckled as well. They'd all heard the story before, but you'd only been with them for a few days. You liked Glenn well enough- he was quiet but helpful and sweet- but that? Holy shit, that tipped it over the edge, and you grinned back at him. 

"So Speed Racer's got a little snark to him, huh?" you said appreciatively, and Glenn blushed a little under the nickname. "I take it he got you out?" 

"Oh yeah. He did, and that's how I wound up with these guys- how I found Lori and Carl and Shane again," Rick said with a nod for you and an adoring smile for his family. "It was all Glenn."

 

Glenn looked your way from his place beside Maggie. She was sleeping, and you were glad. God knew she needed it. It'd only been two days since Beth had died, and Maggie- Maggie wasn't handling it very well. Not at all. 

You sat with your back to a log that Merle had dragged over for you, pushed back from the fire and from the others. Merle was off walking the perimeter of your camp, taking his turn on watch, and Rick and Carl- your other two self-appointed guardians since Daryl was running around the woods like a lunatic instead of sitting here with you where he damn well belonged- were busy with an urgent Judith situation, and the smell that had risen from her direction had sent you into a blind panic. 

Glenn glanced at you again and climbed to his feet. 

You found a tired, sad smile for him as he sat down beside you. "Hey, Speed Racer," you said softly. "How you doing?" 

Glenn sighed. "She's ok," he answered, and you laughed a little as you nudged him with your shoulder. 

"I asked about you, dude." 

Glenn blinked and cracked a small smile at you. "Ha. I didn't- I don't know. I'm so worried about her, I guess. She's- Beth was..." he trailed off and you saw the tears in his eyes. 

"Yeah, I know," you said softly, and touched the back of his hand gently. "If you need anything, just ask. I'll do whatever I can." 

"Yeah. I know you will. That's actually.... I wanted to say thank you," he said, looking over at you. 

"For what?" you asked, confused. You hadn't done anything. 

"For what you did back there. For getting us out of there. You took charge. I- I wasn't. You took charge, got us to safety, and made sure Beth was buried." 

You shook your head at him. "No need to thank me for that." 

"No, there is. There is. We bury the ones we love, and you made sure that happened. I couldn't even- I couldn't even think about it." 

You squeezed the hand you held in yours and leaned your head on his shoulder for a moment. "Don't thank me for that, Speed Racer. It's what we do."

 

The last time you'd called him Speed Racer was a day before everything changed. Daryl was messed up from Denise's death, and you'd all just learned that there were a hell of a lot more of these Saviors in the world that you'd realized. Maggie stood on your doorstep in the early morning, and she had a grim look and a clipboard in her hand. 

"Hey, Mags," you said easily, stepping outside and pulling the door closed. Behind her, at the bottom of the steps, was Glenn, and he had a fond-exasperated expression and was holding one of the Hilltop's apples and a chunk of cheese. When you came down the steps behind Maggie, already talking rapidly, he smiled at you and fell in step with Maggie. The cheese he handed to you, and the apple he waved under Maggie's nose until she took it from him. As she took a bite, he turned to you. 

"Morning, YN. Sorry about the hour. I tried to get her to wait a couple more hours, but..." he trailed off and shrugged as Maggie glared and started to mumble something around the mouthful of apple. 

You laughed. "Hey, Speed Racer. Don't worry about it. I get it. Have to make sure we're in as good a place as we can be, right? And besides, you know all you have to do is wave some cheese in my direction and I'll follow you anywhere!" 

 

There was more. Green balloons against the sky, the way he laid his hand over Maggie's still-flat stomach, his smile as he showed off the ultrasound image of their little tiny peanut. His laughter as Daryl declared semi-drunkenly that he wanted to see how red Glenn's face could get as he poured more wine into Glenn's glass all the way back in the CDC. 

His eye roll as he told Merle to shut the hell up when Merle started in on him about how he 'thought all you Asians were good at math; cain't ya count a few damn biters?" 

His deadly serious eyes on Deanna's camera as he said you had to make this work, because you'd almost been out there too long. 

Glenn laughing as you stood on the guard tower of the prison, talking about your plans for the place and how much you missed cheese and the pizzas he used to deliver. 

Glenn watching as Hershel walked Maggie to him, looking like the happiest man in the whole damn world. 

You'll be missed, Glenn Rhee. Rest in peace, Speed Racer. 

You put your hands to your face and sobbed. 

 

You were pacing again, once the tears had ceased, picking at the skin of your bottom lip as you worried over- well, over everything. 

People had died. Your people had died, and you didn't know who was still alive. The Saviors had run with Negan's retreat, but that didn't mean those garbage bastards had. 

Oh, yeah, killing Jadis was pretty damn high on your priority list now. 

At least you knew that Carl and Rick were alive. Well, last you'd seen them anyway. 

Damn it, you needed to be out of this shit hole!


	57. The Only Good Thing About High Heels Is You Have A Built-in Weapon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> threat of rape/ non con   
> Negan being Negan

And that's when the door opened, like you'd summoned someone to you with the force of your mental bitching. You'd take what you could get, you guessed, as you whirled to face the bright spear of light. 

"Hello, princess," Negan said slowly, filling the doorway as he looked you over. 

You crossed your arms and glared back at him. "What the hell is going on?" 

"See, it's interesting that you should ask that, darlin'. Because that is what I would also be very, very interested in knowing as well," he replied, giving you a slow smile that didn't reach the rage you could see in his eyes. 

You shrugged. "Fuck if I know. I've been locked in here for- how the hell long have I been in here?" 

Negan chuckled. "I think we both know that's not what I mean, princess. You have an awful lot I believe you need to tell me." 

"Oh?" you gave the word as much sarcastic power as you could, raising one eyebrow and leaning back against the wall behind you in a show of casual dismissal. 

"There she is. There's my girl," he whispered, and you bristled. 

Like hell were you this fucker's girl.

"Don't like that, do you princess?" he drawled, pushing out of the doorway and stepping into your space, crowding you back against the wall. You didn't move, but it took effort. More effort than you were proud of, to be honest, and your hands were trembling slightly where they gripped your own arms. 

"You still don't think you belong to me. But you do." He sang the last bit a softly, then put one hand on the wall beside your head and leaned forward until his lips brushed your ear. "I told you what's going to happen, didn't I?" 

You shivered; you couldn't help it. It was fear, hot and primal, that coursed through you at his tone and his words. 

You knew he felt it because he stepped backward with a smirk on his lips, but there was something strange in his eyes. He snapped his fingers, and Fuck-face Dwight appeared with something in his hands. Negan shook the thing out, and you ground your teeth together as he chuckled. 

"Good choice, Dwighty boy," he said, and held up the black dress. "Here you go, princess. All yours." He held the dress out to you and you kept your arms firmly crossed. His eyes hardened. 

"Take it, princess," he snapped, and you did. Fuck it all, you did; snatching the thing out of his hand and tossing it over your shoulder as you glared and Negan smirked. "Good girl. Shoes, Dwight. Those muddy boots ain't gonna be fitting for one of my wives, are they?" 

Dwight held out a pair of strappy black things with heels, and both eyebrows went up as you scoffed. 

"Seriously?" you muttered, but when Negan held them out, you took them. 

He leaned over you again, grinning. "Oh yes, princess. Seriously," he said with a wink, and slammed the door shut behind him. 

You heard the click of the lock and let out a long sigh, the tremble in your hands spreading to the rest of your body. You dropped the shoes and the dress on the ground and slid down the wall to put your forehead on your knees again and concentrate on filling your lungs slowly and completely before breathing out. 

Again. Again. Again. 

It didn't help. You were still well and truly fucked. 

 

The door opened again, and you stayed where you were but lifted your head to see who it was this time. It was Dwight, and he had a plate in his hands. 

"If that's dog food on bread, you can just back the fuck right up," you informed him coldly. 

"It's not." The plate hit the floor beside you, and sure enough, it wasn't. 

You pushed it away anyway. 

"Don't be a bitch," Dwight muttered. "Put the dress on, eat the food. You're gonna do it in the end, might as well get it over with. I didn't know." The last line was delivered in a whisper, and the door slammed shut before you could say anything. 

Didn't know what? Aw, hell if you cared. It was Fuck-Face Dwight, come on.

You didn't eat the food or put on the dress. 

 

 

And here we go again, but this time it was Arat who opened the door. You sneered at her. 

"So, you're still alive, huh? Negan fuck you yet?" you asked bluntly, and her nostrils flared. 

"Keep your mouth shut, bitch," she snapped. "And put on the dress." 

"No." You said it flatly, with a shrug. She couldn't make you. 

Arat smiled. Apparently, you were wrong.

 

 

She and another woman frog marched you from the cell. You ended up in Negan's bedroom and cold fear began to creep up your spine.

"Last chance. Put the dress on." 

You crossed your arms and looked down your nose at Arat. She waited a beat, then shrugged again. 

The other woman grabbed at your arms and held you still while Arat stalked over. She tossed the dress on the bed and pulled her knife from her belt, and you held your breath. Was this crazy bitch going to get to stab you for real this time? 

God, what a way to go out. Killed over fashion. Not what you saw for yourself, that's for sure. 

But no; she slid the knife up under the shoulder seams of your shirt and yanked, literally cutting the clothing off of you. You struggled grimly, pissed as hell, because that had been Daryl's shirt and you liked it, damn it. It wasn't any use, though, and in the end you stood there in bra and underwear and glared at the world. Arat picked up the dress again and held it out, gesturing to the other woman to let go of your arms. She did, and you hesitated as you tried to decide if you wanted to die on this particular hill. 

Finally, the tightening of your lungs decided that clothes were better than no clothes, even if it was a symbol you didn't want anything to do with. You snatched the dress from her hands and pulled it over your head with a sigh. 

It was sleeveless, but with a higher neck than you'd have expected, Negan being Negan. The skirt fell long enough that you weren't afraid you were going to flash someone if you bent over, but not much longer than that, and you guessed it was nice enough. Fit you like a second skin, but hey. At least you were covered. 

You didn't fight when she held out the shoes, but you really, really wanted to. Because who the fuck needs heels in the zombie apocalypse?

Then the two women left, taking the remains of your previous clothing with you, and you started looking around the room for something- anything- you could use as a weapon. When the door opened again, you didn't try to pretend that wasn't what you were doing. 

That would have been pointless, since you were balancing on a chair stretching up to the curtain rod that reached across the big windows, trying to see if it was worth removing. 

"Well, well, well, princess. Trying to kill me already?" Negan asked, sounding amused. 

You didn't turn to look until you'd found what you'd suspected- the thing was secured to the wall in such a way that you couldn't get it down. You sank back down from where you'd been on your toes, and stepped neatly down from the chair with a shrug. 

"Yes," you answered truthfully. Hell, what would it hurt? Worst case scenario, you landed yourself back in the cell, dead, or Negan did what you were pretty sure he'd brought you here to do. You'd survive two of those, and the third honestly didn't feel like that big a deal right now. 

He chuckled. "Good for you, darlin'. Now, I know you think you're here for some fun in the sack, as it were, and I know you know I'd be more than willing to oblige- but first, we need to clear us a few things up." 

You raised an eyebrow. "Like what?" you asked, curious, as Negan dropped Lucille to the floor and peeled off his jacket. He tossed it over the back of a chair and sank down with a groan. 

"Sit, princess," he commanded, and you sat across from him and waited. 

 

 

He asked about all kinds of shit that you didn't answer him on: Maggie, the guns, your plan. Basically, you didn't say a word. And all he did was ask. 

Finally he nodded. "Ok. Fine, darlin'. I see how it's gonna be. Now, I am exhausted. This has been a day! I'm going to bed. Why don't you lose the shoes- I know you hate them, but you should see what they do for your ass, princess, I mean, damn!- and go on and lay yourself down. We've got some work to do in the morning!" 

He clapped his hands and stood up, holding out a hand for you. You took it slowly, staring at him in confusion. You knew he was enjoying the look on your face as you glanced from him to the bed and your eyes narrowed. 

"Darlin', I already told you- I do not tolerate any pencil-dick rapist fucks. And I know you think I am not aware of precisely what it would be for me to tell you to shimmy on out of that pretty little dress and climb up on my dick, but I am. You've showed fear to me exactly one damn time that I've seen you, and that was in that cell. Make no mistake, you are my wife now. No one else will touch you but me, and I will have you naked in that bed- " he broke off and leaned into you, lips on your ear again. You ground your teeth together as he whispered. 

"But when I do, it'll be because you asked me for it." 

You stepped back and sneered at him. "Not fucking likely, asshole. And I'm not your wife." 

"Yes, princess, you are," he said easily. "Now go on, or I'll put you up there myself." 

 

 

It was a big ass bed, and he didn't try anything, but it was weird as fuck to be laying next to someone who wasn't Daryl. You laid there for a long time, hearing him breathe as he dropped off to sleep. 

What the fuck was even going on here? Negan had you as one of his little black dress brigade, in his bed, and he just expected you to.... sleep? What the actual, ever loving fuck. 

But that was it. He slept, you dropped off eventually because it had been a while since you got any sleep whatsoever, and you woke up in the morning to sunlight and an empty bed. You rose slowly, cautiously looking around, and as you got to your feet, his door opened. 

"Good morning, princess," he said easily. "I hope you slept well, darlin', because we have got us some shit to do today. Put your shoes on like a good girl, and let's go." 

It was surreal. 

You followed Negan out the door, on his arm like you had before. Before you'd left the room, he'd reached over and pulled the tie from the end of your braid, watching as it began to slowly unravel. 

"Wear it loose," he told you with a wink. 

And, ok, what the fuck ever. It was just hair. And clothes, and shoes, and ok, fine, you'd admit it- you were fuckin' terrified. You were so off balance mentally it wasn't even funny. You really, truly, had no idea what the fuck was going on.


	58. Bold of Him To Assume You Want to Be Queen When Being the Assassin Is Much More Fun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

You spent the next several days alternating between being on Negan's arm and being locked in the cell, confused as fuck about what was going on. You weren't really sure which you preferred- the cell with its darkness and odd passage of time, or being paraded around like a trophy on Negan's arm.

But hey, you were getting a hell of a lot of good information. 

You brought him papers, served him dinner, brought him drinks. On one memorable occasion, he demanded a back rub. You thought about throwing up on him instead, but in the end decided death wasn't the better than massaging the man's shoulders. After all, you'd been expecting a hell of a lot worse.

Periodically, he asked you if you were ready to get out of the cell completely. If you were ready to be his wife and take your place at his side. All you had to do was declare that you, too, were Negan. 

"Come on, princess. Life here- is it really that bad? I mean, do I not treat you like a queen? Like an equal? This is what it could be for you, darlin'. You could be my right hand. Queen to my king. You're smarter than all of my asshole lieutenants, you know," he said seriously. You glared at the wall behind his head. 

"I have a husband already. I have a home, and a community. I don't want to be anyone's fucking queen," you snapped, and he shrugged. He rapped on the door, and Arat came and shoved you back into the hole. 

 

You were sitting at his side while he held a meeting. Dwight, Simon, Gavin, and that traitor Eugene were already gathered when Negan escorted you in. He hit the back of Gavin's chair with Lucille, and Gavin sprang up and pulled a chair out for you. 

You eyed it and Negan, wondering if a show of defiance was worth it. You'd pretty much given up on that shit by now, because it didn't do anything. 

Not that it didn't do any good, mind- it didn't do anything at all. Negan chuckled and ignored it, or made an offhand comment about that being exactly what he expected from you. No punishment, no anger, no innuendo about him being hard all the time; nothing. It was weird as fuck, and since being quiet was easier than being constantly argumentative, you'd cut it out almost entirely by day four.

This was day eight, and you shrugged and sat down, smoothing the back of your dress automatically as you did. Gavin pushed your chair in for you, you crossed your ankles, and sat back to watch the meeting. 

This time it was different. A woman strode in moments after you'd sat down, nodded at the room, and took as seat as she turned to Negan. 

"Sorry I'm late, boss. Small dead issue on the way; nothing we couldn't handle. Just set us back a bit." 

Negan gave her a nod. "Ok, Simon. Bring in your friend." He glanced over at you and winked. "You're gonna like this, princess." 

 

 

Gregory sat at the end of the table opposite Negan, staring at you. You were pretty sure the asshole didn't even recognize you, and that made you smirk at him. Dick. Negan was going to chew him up and spit him back out, just like he had Spencer.

You might have hated the guy, but you could appreciate his utter lack of tolerance for people's cowardly, backstabbing bullshit. He ruled it an iron fist, for sure. 

"First of all, I'd like to thank you for having me here today," Gregory started, holding a glass of water in his hands. 

Ok, barf. You'd forgotten just how much you hated this tool. 

"Negan, let me lay this down straight for you," he continued, and you shot an eyebrow up and glanced at Negan. He had one leg on the table and was running his thumb over the bullet still embedded in Lucille. 

You shook your head with a sigh. Yeah, you were probably going to watch Gregory die today, and you didn't even think you cared. Actually, you might have been actively rooting for it.

"I know how it is... negotiating the slippery, steep terrain of managing resources and the population and the big, scary you- you know, it's called the unknown," he winked at Negan, and you rolled your eyes so hard it made you head hurt. The woman across the table was smirking at you when you focused again. 

"Listen, I- I mean it when I say it- Negan, I don't like killing people any more than you do." 

"I like killing people," Negan finally spoke, and you glanced at him, hearing the smile in his voice. You were right, and he winked at you when he caught you looking. You actually laughed a little before you caught yourself. Seeing him wipe the floor with Gregory was going to be awesome. 

"Oh, well, I-" Gregory started to backpedal, but you talked over him. Just for shits and giggles. 

"I say it's about killing the right people," you said pointedly, raising an eyebrow at Negan. His lieutenants shifted around the table, and Fuck-face Dwight smirked a little. 

Negan grinned. "I bet you do, princess. I agree. You kill the right people at the right time? Everything falls into place. Everybody's happy. Well- some people more than others." He jerked his eyebrows at you as he said it, and your jaw clenched. 

He was talking about Abraham and Glenn, and anger flooded your system. But you held back, held your tongue, because this shit was actually pretty interesting. Not to mention informative.

"But you kill one, and you could be saving hundreds more. And that is what we are all about! We save people," he said as he spread his hands and smiled down the table at Gregory. 

"That- that's why you're called the Saviors. Oh," Gregory said, like he was making some profound leap. 

Suddenly Dwight shoved upright. "Gonna grab a smoke," he muttered, heading around the table. He bumped your chair as he went and you narrowed your eyes at him. 

"Now?" Negan asked, giving him a look. "Don't you want to hear this?" 

Dwight looked down the table at Gregory, scoffed, and looked back at Negan. "Don't need to. Tell me where to go and what to do; I'll make it happen." 

Negan smiled and waved him off. Dwight tossed you another unreadable glance and left. 

What the fuck was that all about? 

"Where were we, Gregory? Oh that's right, you were telling me that you don't like to kill people, and I was saying that I do, under the right circumstances," Negan said, picking up Lucille from his lap. 

You rolled your eyes again. "Please, asshole. If he hasn't gotten the message already, he'd not going to," you said, and Negan chuckled. 

"Oh, I think he has, princess." 

"Well, this- this situation- that we find ourselves in- this conflict-" Gregory stammered out, ignoring you as he tried to seem like he knew anything about what the hell he was doing. "I can stop it before it even gets started." 

You laughed outright. "For real? Gregory, no one fucking listens to you, you tool!" 

"Who- who are you?" Gregory asked, turning angry eyes to you. You grinned. 

"You seriously don't remember me? Ok. Fine. Maybe this will bring me back to mind," you said, and leaned forward, fixing him with a glare. "'I'll cut your balls off and make you watch while I feed them to a walker. And then I'll take your eyes and feed them to you,'" you growled, quoting what you'd said to him the last time you saw him, in his office. 

"Whoa, ho! Oh, boys- and Regina- look at that! Look at that shit!" Negan half-yelled it, laughing, as Gregory drew back from you, eyes wide. "Did you hear that? That is my newest wife, everyone! That shit right there is why she will be your goddamn queen. Hot damn!" 

You didn't take your eyes off Gregory. "I'm not your wife, asshole! I'm already married." 

"Mm, darlin'. I had no idea our guest would make you so damn feisty. In fact, I had no idea the two of you knew each other at all. But be a good girl and shut the hell up now. I want to hear what the man has to say!" Negan smirked as he pointed the bat at you briefly. You shrugged and settled back, smiling at the stammering Gregory, who still looked like he was about two seconds away from pissing himself. 

"I mean- here it is," he finally got out as the room waited expectantly. "I- I go to my people, and I tell them if you're joining with this- this misled crusade, you're no longer citizens of the Hilltop. You're out on your asses." 

Dead-ass silence followed that announcement for a moment. 

"You still their guy?" Negan asked softly. "They still listen to you, Gregory? Can you exile people?" 

"Hilltop is my house," he said, puffing himself up. You shook your head again, genuinely amused that he could delude himself to this extent. 

"If you're the guy, if you have indeed always been the guy, then why didn't you know about the widow leading an army of your people straight up my ass in Alexandria?" 

Huh. You wondered how he was going to weasel his way out of this one. 

"You know what I think, Gregory? I think you're playing both sides," Negan whispered, leaning forward on the table. "I think you are a thin-dicked politician threading the needle with your thin, thin dick. Now, is listening to you the right way to go, or is it the right place and time for something else?" 

"No, no. Not trying to do that. No. I- I wasn't aware of things until they were already in- in motion-" he began, and Negan looked at you. 

"Is that true, princess? Was he aware of things beforehand?" 

You didn't say a word, just raised an eyebrow. "Look, I hate this clown, but I'm not giving you any information here. If you want to listen to him or kill him, that's up to you. Because I am not a thin dick bastard, and I'm not playing both sides. I'm on Rick's side, asshole." 

Negan held your eyes for a moment and grinned. "I know, princess. For now." 

"Gregory, hey," Simon said, putting a hand on Gregory's shaking one. "I believe you. Now make Negan believe you, ok?" 

Negan swung Lucille up to his shoulder as Gregory struggled. 

"Hilltop is mine. I let a fox into my hen house. She and her people took advantage of my generous nature. I see that now, and I will fix it." He shot a glare at you and you shrugged at him. 

"Ant beneath my shoe, Gregory," you muttered, just to watch him squirm. 

"If we go in with the right stage picture, a thick and veiny show of force surrounding Gregory when he lays down the law, I think things go back to copacetic. If they don't, we take a flyer on the place and kill everyone there," he added at the end with a terrifying smile. 

Well, shit. First off, why were these people so obsessed with dicks? Weren't any of them getting laid? Negan had a damn harem, so you knew he was. But still. And second off, that didn't jive at all with what you knew of Negan so far. He was the kill-to-make-a-point kind, not a killing-is-the-point kind. 

Gregory choked on his water. 

"Unfortunate solution, but the other communities will get the message and we achieve equilibrium. Plan A. Plan B-" 

Lucille slammed into the table and everyone jumped but you. You were pretty fucking proud of that as Negan rose with a look you'd only seen on his face once- when Rosita had shot Lucille. 

"People are a resource," he growled, and there was that thing again. What the hell had he bargained to the garbage people for? Fuck Jadis and her weird shits. 

The bat slammed on the table again, and you looked up and raised an eyebrow at him, not at all worried that that explosive anger was turned toward you. A quick glance around the room showed everyone looking down and nervous, and you realized you were the only one with any kind of calm. 

Thing was, you didn't know how they didn't know he'd react that way. He didn't have a problem killing a person, but talking about wiping out an entire community? Did these guys seriously not grasp the ideology of their own leader? They called themselves the Saviors, because Negan believed he was- wait for it- saving people. 

"Money on the table," he continued, voice low but pissed as hell. Then he exploded, hitting Lucille on the table to emphasize every word. "People are the foundation of what we are building here! Who the hell do you think you're talking to?" His voice dropped to a whisper as he asked the question, leaning over the table and fixing Simon with his glare. 

Wow, you were really glad you weren't Simon. 

"Are you confused about who we are? Are you confused about who is in charge? Are we backsliding, Simon? Please, tell me we're not backsliding." 

Oh now, that was interesting. Trouble in the ranks had you looking away from Negan's admittedly captivating performance and glancing around the table again. Eugene looked like he was about to shit his pants, and everyone else was clearly scared as well. Simon was frozen like a deer in the headlights. 

"We're not backsliding. This is a pronounced event and a fragile moment," he said, which didn't really sound like an apology or a recanting of his statement, but whatever. 

"Hell, yes, it is," Negan agreed. "We need to win it all. Plan A, is taking Rick, the widow, and King Assface alive and making them dead in a very very public and instructive way." 

That had you whipping your head toward him, your glare landing on his smug smile as he glanced at you. 

"Oh, yes, princess- you didn't think your little friends got out of this shit alive, did you? We kill the right people in the wrongest way possible, and we make them all watch!" 

You shoved your chair back and rose, ready to fucking fight over this one, and Negan pointed Lucille at you. 

"Sit your ass down, dear wife, before I have to show you that my kindness will only go so far!" he roared, and you laughed. 

"Kill me, then! But I am not your wife, and you will never take them alive!" you snapped. Negan's snarl grew and he took a step in your direction. 

From outside, there came four rhythmic shots, sounding as if they came from a shit ton of guns. 

You grinned as Negan grabbed your arm and drug you toward the door. He was issuing orders, but you weren't listening. 

They'd come for you. 

Fucking finally.


	59. Knock, Knock, Bitches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> Negan being Negan

He shoved the door open and sunlight spilled out, almost too bright for you to see. You stumbled a little as he pulled you through with his hand around your forearm, but you caught yourself and looked around still smiling. 

There was an absolute forest of cars covered in metal plating, and your heart started pounding when you picked out Rick's face from between two of them. He paled when he saw you but met your eyes for a moment. 

"Well, shit! I'm sorry. I was in a meeting," Negan declared, swinging Lucille up to his shoulder as he took in the scene in front of him. "Princess, I'm gonna let go of your arm, but I will not hesitate to take out one of your knees if you try to go anywhere, you understand?" 

Oh, yeah, you understood. You didn't give a shit, though. You were waiting for your moment. 

You wondered who all was out there, behind those cars, and what you could do to help. Suddenly, you were very aware of the fact that you were dressed like one of Negan's whores, and your eyes whipped back to Rick, hoping desperately that he didn't- 

None of them would believe you were in this willingly, would they? They knew you better than that, right? 

On the other hand, here you were, at Negan's side dressed as his wife, standing up here with his lieutenants and Eugene. You weren't bruised up anymore than you'd been when he got you; you had been well fed; and you were obviously involved in Negan's 'meeting'. 

Jesus. 

Panic began to creep up as Rick's eyes didn't go back to yours. Only a sliver of him was visible in between two of the armored cars, and he was watching Negan. Shit. 

"I see you got your little mudflaps with you," Negan said. "So I'm not exactly feelin' a reason for us to try throwing lead at each other. I care about my people," he said, and ran a hand down your hair. 

You flinched away from him and glared, and you when you looked back for Rick, his face was a stone mask of hate. 

Negan chuckled as he dropped his hand. "I don't want to just march them into the line of fire because I want to play 'my dick is bigger than yours'. It is. We both know it. Right, princess?" he added with a smirk. 

"Go to hell, asshole," you told him blandly, and he winked at you. 

"She's cute when she's mad, isn't she, Rick? Well, I'm also comfortable enough to accept the fact if it wasn't. I'm certainly not gonna let my people die over that shit.... Like you're about to," he added in a hard voice, pointing Lucille out toward them. "So, Rick, what the hell can I do for you?" 

Rick stepped a little more into view, and he stabbed out one finger. "Dwight. Your name's Simon. You're Gavin. And you?" He shifted his position to point at the woman. 

"Regina," she called with an irritated look. 

"Rick, I'd feel remiss if-" 

"No," Rick snapped, cutting Eugene off. "I know who you are." 

Negan glanced from Eugene to you. "What about my wife? Do you know who she is?" 

"For the last time, fucker, I am not your wife!" you snapped, and Negan leaned into your side. 

"That's not what you said last night, baby," he said, loud enough for everyone out there to hear, running a finger down your cheek. You pulled your face away and glared, seriously considering punching him, but Rick's voice cut through the rising tension. 

"Listen, you five. The Saviors inside. All of you have a chance to survive here. To survive this. You all can live if you surrender. Can't guarantee it any time but now. Right now." 

Negan laughed. "Just the five? What about her?" 

"I don't need to offer the option to her. I know who she is, too; and she isn't yours," Rick yelled, and you felt your knees go weak for a minute. Thank God. 

"Huh," Negan said after a second. "So, they surrender, and you and your little piss patrol doesn't kill them? That sounds like a good deal! What about me, Rick?" he asked, popping Rick's name as he leaned on the railing and smirked. 

"I told you. Twice. You know what's going to happen." 

"I do. I do know what's gonna happen. You don't. You have no idea the shit that's about to go down! Let me ask you something, Rick- do you think you have the numbers for this fight? You don't."

You were watching Rick's eyes, and he glanced to either side of him. You wished you could see around those damn armored cars, but if you'd been able to, then your people wouldn't have been protected as they were. God, you just wanted to see them, to know who was there and who wasn't. You wanted to know the plan, damn it. 

You wanted to kick some Savior ass alongside whoever Rick had brought with him. 

"Simon! Bring out your friend," Negan said cheerfully, and Simon turned and waved into the doorway. 

Out came Gregory, and you sneered at him as he planted his hands on his hips and tried to look commanding. 

"What do you have to say to Rick and the piss patrol, Gregory?" Negan asked, hand on Gregory's shoulder. 

"The Hilltop stands with Negan and the Saviors. Any resident of the Hilltop who takes up arms or who supports this ultimatum against the Sanctuary or any of the Saviors, for that matter- will no longer be welcome in the colony." He turned and looked at Negan for his approval and you scoffed and rolled your eyes. 

"And?" Negan said, as you started eyeing the distance between where you stood and the nearest armored car. 

It was a little too far for your to be really comfortable going for it, what with the number of people on the platform with you, but if things got desperate, what could it hurt? You weren't going to go back inside that factory, that's for sure. 

You were suddenly once again very aware of how you were dressed, and you were disgusted all over again. This crap would be shit for fighting. These damn heels would be shit for running. And your hair was going to be everywhere, damn it. 

You missed your boots. You missed your braid. You missed jeans and your gun belt and just, you know, weapons of any kind. 

"Their families will be thrown out and will be left to fend for themselves," Gregory added, and you mentally added him to list of people that needed killing. 

"And?" Negan drew the word out as he stepped away from Gregory to pace the length of the railing. 

Gregory puffed himself up and deepened his voice. "Go home now. Or you won't have a home to go back to!" he declared, and looked back at Negan and Simon for approval. Suck up ass-kissing dickwad.

"You heard the man. Go back to separating wheat and shit, or whatever the hell it is you people do," Negan said after a minute passed and no one moved out there. 

"Doesn't look like anyone's goin', does it?" Maggie's voice rang out clear through the air, and you grinned. 

"Told you, asshole," you said to Gregory as he and Negan frowned at you. 

"Hilltop stands with-" Gregory started, glaring out toward the cars, but then Ninja Jesus shouted him down, and you were laughing out loud. 

"The Hilltop stands with Maggie!" Jesus shouted, and Gregory's face was practically purple. 

Simon was up in Gregory's face, yelling at him, and your eyebrows shot up as he shoved the guy down the stairs to land in a crumpled heap, looking pissed as hell.

Negan didn't look very happy either, but you were. Oh, God, oh, God, you were. 

You were so proud of these crazy people. Maggie and Jesus taking a stand against thin dick Gregory; Rick offering them a chance to surrender; all of them banding together to come here and make the world a better place for everyone. It just filled you up with pride and determination, and the difference- 

The difference between them and Negan was all the more stark for it. Negan's people were full of fear and hate and barely suppressed violence. They offered killing everyone as a viable solution, and while Negan objected to that, it was only because people were worth something to him, for him. Your people, they offered a chance to all those who wanted it. All the Saviors had to do was reach out and take it. Negan offered you a choice that wasn't a choice: the cell or his bed. Rick offered them the chance at a whole new world.

Even if you died here before you could reach them, you weren't going back inside. Not when your friends, your family were this close. Not when they were fighting. You'd be by their sides or you'd be dead, but you wouldn't be a weapon to stay their hands like you were right now.

Fuck that shit. 

 

 

Suddenly, there were explosions in the distance, and black smoke began to ooze against the sky. You grinned at the sight, because that had Dixon handiwork written all over it. Plus, if things were exploding, things were going to be happening.

You glanced behind you casually, and Gavin and the rest were exchanging looks of confusion. Dwight glanced at you and then away, and suddenly you began to suspect that maybe he wasn't a double-double crossing bastard after all. Interesting. 

If he'd helped them with all this- whatever all this was- that'd be at least something in his favor. Not much, but something. 

Negan's eyes lingered on the smoke for a moment before he spoke. "Sounds like shit is going down, Rick," he drawled. 

"You 'lieutenants'," Rick called, ignoring Negan completely. "You're gonna have to make up your minds." 

"Maybe we can take a time-out here-" Gavin started, and Negan's head whipped around to glare at him. Rick cut him off before Negan could, but you filled that away under Things That Might Be Useful. 

"No. This has to happen now. This is the only way." 

Negan turned his glare outward. "Ricky-dicky, I do not know if you've forgotten, but this is my latest wife right here beside me. I seem to recall her being fairly important to you at one time. Are you really sure you want to go down this road with her here?" he asked, pacing over to your side and putting Lucille right under your chin. 

You glared at him. "Do it, asshole," you muttered. "I'm tired of this whole damn game. We're going to be free of you." 

"I know who she is," Rick repeated. "Do you? Are you gonna make me count? You're gonna make me count. Okay. Okay. I'm counting." 

He met your eyes for a second as Negan swung Lucille down with a snarl. You held his eyes and he gave you the smallest of nods. 

Oh, yeah. 

Your breath caught happily and your lips quirked back up. 

Fuck shit up, Troublemaker.

Ok, Cowboy. I'm with you. 

"Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven!"

Your only warning was your knowledge of Rick, to be honest, but you were moving before he got the second syllable of 'seven' out. You heard the click of a gun cocking and then you were air born as shots rang out from all those armored cars. 

You slammed into Negan, knocking him down the stairs, and you went with him. You used him to break your fall- kind of the point, though you'd been hopping to maybe break his neck in the process- and you slammed your fist into his face once before shoving yourself to your feet. You didn't want to give him a chance to engage, knowing full well he was a hell of a lot bigger than you, and probably a much, much better fighter. 

Plus, you know, bat verses fist? Bat would always win. 

Speed was going to be your best friend here, you knew, and you scrambled toward the armored cars, trusting your people not to shoot you in the back while you kept your eyes on Negan. He lay dazed for a minute, then started to get to his feet, and you moved a little faster. 

In your defense, there were bullets flying, you were walking backwards, and you were in heels. Of course you tripped, and landed flat on your back with all the air huffing out of you. Your head cracked against the pavement below you and world went dim for a minute, and you had time to clearly think: 

Fuck. 

 

"YN!"

Light came back, though the world was still fuzzy. You didn't have time for it to focus, though, because that was a voice you knew and it had you pushing yourself to your feet as best you could. 

"Seriously, princess?" Negan yelled, and he was a hell of a lot closer to you than you wanted him to be. 

You'd made it to your knees, but the world was dipping and spinning crazily now, in addition to being pretty blurry, and you were having trouble making any other progress. You could make out that damn bat, though, and Negan pulling it back to swing at- 

Oh. To swing at you, because he was right the fuck in front of you, and he looked mad as hell, blood trickling from his lip. 

Well, damn. That's not good.


	60. If You Could Bottle Pain, It'd Look and Smell Like That

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> medical stuff

You didn't know where it came from, but there was an hand clamped on your shoulder and you were being pulled to your feet and shoved backward, and someone- something- 

Wait, what the actual fuck was going on? 

You heard someone bellow in pain as you blinked and tried to bring the world in focus, and- 

Shit balls! 

It was Merle, standing in front of you with his metal-covered arm up, and blood was oozing out of the crushed metal. Negan was grinning and pulling that damn bat back for another swing, but Merle was already in motion, hauling you backwards as bullets rained down around you. 

"Come on! Get back here!" Rick's voice came over the chaos, and hands were reaching to pull you behind the metal car barricade. 

Your head finally seemed to clear a bit as someone shoved you forward again, and you realized a lot of those cars were pulling away rapidly. Merle was yelling something in your ear about getting the fuck gone, and you were being stuffed into a car as a massive explosion came from just behind you. 

What, and you meant this with every fiber of your apparently still dazed being, the fuck?

Merle was in the car beside you, throwing it in reverse and burning rubber as you stared wildly from him to the front window of the car, where hundreds of walkers were stumbling straight toward the Sanctuary. 

"What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck?" someone was saying over and over again, and oh, hey- as usual- it was you. You clamped your lips shut and pressed the heels of your hands over your eyes as laughter started bubbling up deep inside. 

"Oh God," you gasped, a little desperately, and then you were laughing and crying all at once. "Oh my god, what the hell? What the hell is happening? Merle-" 

You opened your eyes and looked at him, and he was smiling at the road as he drove after the other armored cars like a bat out of hell. 

Or, more accurately, like a Dixon from a horde of walkers. 

You opened your mouth to make some kind of flippant comment, some equivalent of 'hi, honey, how was work today,' but the past however many minutes started to resolve into something more than noise and light and blurry shapes and chaos. As it did, you remembered that bellow of pain and Lucille pulling away from Merle's arm, and your eyes went wide. 

"Merle, your arm!" you snapped, looking wildly to where he had his arm clamped hard at his side, and you noticed the pain pinching his eyes and the edge of his mouth. You couldn't get a good look at the damage as he angled his body away from you deliberately, you frowned at him as your heart rate started to speed up.

"Ain't nothin', little sister. I'll get me all patched up soon enough; the meeting point isn't too far away. Ol' Merle's more worried about you, girlie," he added with a glance in your direction.

You huffed a breath at him in annoyance. "I'm fine; just hit my head. Merle, he hit you with that damn bat! You can't possibly be ok!" 

"I didn't say I was, did I?" he drawled reasonably. "I said it ain't nothin', and they'll patch me up right as rain. Be there in less than five minutes. Now you tell me the truth, baby sister- did he hurt ya? Kept callin' you his wife, and you're dressed like one of his. Did he-" Merle looked at you, and there was something wild in his eyes before he turned back at the road and cut himself off, jaw tightening and throat working as he swallowed hard. 

What? Oh. Oh! Jesus, in all of it, you'd forgotten- almost- where you'd been. 

Everything in you softened inside, and you were smiling through tears again as you scooted over to press your lips to Merle's cheek. "No, big brother, he didn't. Some weird shit went on, let me tell you, and we'll talk all about it at home, promise. But he never laid a hand on me." 

Merle's face tightened for an instant and he blinked rapidly, and then he looked at you and smiled. "Jesus, girlie, you don't-" he shook his head and let out a huff. "Dammit, girl, I'm in charge of this whole operation. Cain't have the commander cryin' like a little bitch," he said gruffly. 

You leaned your head on his shoulder with a small laugh. "You're nobody's bitch, big brother. But thanks for the rescue," you murmured.

He jerked a little at that, but you were pulling to stop in a clearing off the road. People were spilling out of the other armored cars, and stalking toward you was the other Dixon in your life.

Daryl stumbled to an abrupt stop as he looked through the front window, his eyes widening. Merle chuckled as Daryl stood frozen, and Merle shoved open his door. 

"Don't just stand there, little brother! We got shit to attend to!" he called with a grin as he climbed out, but then his face went pale and he swayed a little on his feet. 

"Damn it, Merle!" you snapped, scrambling across the seat of the car to climb out and getting a long streak of his blood smeared down your bare leg as you did. Your heart started to pound again as you saw how much of it was on the seat and the floorboard of the car, and you grabbed at Merle as he swayed worse. 

"I need- something! Help, damn it!" you yelled out. People were moving behind you, rapid steps and voices sounding, but your attention was focused on Merle. "Come on, you stubborn son of a bitch, sit the fuck down before you fall down," you snapped at him, easing him to the ground to lean against the side of the car. 

He chuckled again but did as he was told, and you scooted across his lap to get his other side and look at his arm. You immediately wished you hadn't, because it was- 

It wasn't good. The metal that covered his arm from elbow to stump was mangled and crushed in the center of his forearm and blood was still dripping steadily through every crack in the metal. Your stomach churned sickly as you took in the damage, and guilt added to the mix. He'd done this for you, because you'd been an idiot and tripped trying to make up for being a worse idiot and letting yourself get captured. 

Shit, shit, shit. 

There was definitely a broken bone in there, and you weren't sure what else to expect. The armor had protected him from being ripped open by the wire on Negan's bat, but the metal itself was cutting into his arm in several places. 

"Here, woman, let me," Daryl's voice held an edge of barely-suppressed fear, and he was kneeling beside you to look himself. "Fuck, man. The hell'd ya do?" he asked with a glance at Merle, voice way too casual. 

"Took a swing from Lucille for me," you whispered, lungs tightening as Daryl started to ease away the straps holding the metal casing to Merle's arm. You grabbed his hand and looked at him anxiously. 

"Is that- is that a good idea?" you asked wildly. Daryl looked from you to Merle, helplessly. 

"We've gotta see how bad it is," he said softly, and you nodded. 

He slid the thing down, and you stared as you realized you'd never seen Merle without it. Between the shock of that realization and the way the blood started flowing down, you were frozen for a little too long as your brain stuttered to a halt. 

"Woman, come on! I need ya," Daryl snapped, and you lunged into motion, taking over pressing Daryl's wadded-up shirt against Merle's arm. Your breath came in shallow gasps and you were muttering apologies as you tried to slow the bleeding without causing him any more pain. 

"Ain't your fault, darlin'," Merle grunted through clenched teeth, and you shook your head and blinked hard, trying to clear the tears from your eyes. Yes, it was. It was your fault, for being an idiot. You could have gone the other way; could have run to the stairs on the other side and made a mad dash for freedom, but you didn't. You hadn't been able to resist the chance to take a shot at Negan, to get your own retribution right then, and look who'd paid the price. 

Daryl was ripping open a sterile needle from a pack marked with a white cross that looked completely unfamiliar to you. He gripped it in his teeth as he fished in the bag again and came up with a plastic water bottle full of something clear. He cracked it open and you realized it must have been some of Merle's- or someone else's, what did you know?- home brew. Shit, you wouldn't want that anywhere near you, but if that was what you had for antiseptic, that's what you'd go with. 

It was gonna burn like you'd lit him on fire, though, and your stomach cramped in sympathy.

"Aight, pull back," Daryl snapped, and you did. He splashed the stuff over Merle's battered arm, and veins stood out in Merle's neck as he struggled not to scream.   
You slapped the shirt back against his arm immediately, breathing slowly through your nose as you tried to keep from tossing cookies or curling up in the corner in and becoming a gibbering mess. You felt hands touch your shoulders as you hyperventilated, and Rick's voice was in your ear. 

"YN. YN, let me take over. Come on, I've got him," Rick said quietly, and you were shifted smoothly and efficiently out of the way as Daryl started stitching. 

Merle lost the battle against screaming, his harsh shout rasping in the air and sending a wave of fear like cold through your veins. You stumbled backward, clumsy in the heels and in your worry, but you shifted around again to his other side and grabbed his hand. His eyes were clamped and he was white as a ghost as he held on to you in return. Tears burned in your eyes and the back of your throat, but you pressed your other hand to Merle's clammy cheek and he leaned into your touch. 

"Hell, baby sister, ol' Merle's had worse. Quit ya worryin'," he muttered into your palm after a minute. You choked out a half-laugh. 

"I know you have. You're fine. It's nothing," you told him, and he snorted a little. 

"Gotta lie better than that, girlie," he said, eyes cracking open. You shook your head at him and tried to smile. 

"Not to you," you whispered. "But you'll be fine. They've got you." 

"Hurts like a sonuva bitch," Merle admitted, jaw going tight again as Daryl and Rick worked. "You assholes about done?" he snapped toward them. 

"Shut up, dick," Daryl grunted. "Ain't the first time I've stitched ya up, but I don't remember you bein' this much of a pussy about it. Damn." 

"Ha!" Merle laughed, even as sweat beaded on his forehead. "Be fair, it's been a long ass time since ya sewed me up, little brother. Maybe you've gotten worse at it." 

"Maybe you've gotten soft, old man," Daryl shot back. "Aight, ya stitched. Bleedin' slowed down enough too; don't think you'll die." 

"Dixon!" you exclaimed, and he shot you an exasperated glance, tossing his hair from his eyes as he tied off the last stitch. 

"Settle, woman. Merle, we gotta set ya arm unless you want it to heal fucked up. Woman, give 'im something to bite down on so he don't do it on his tongue. On three," he said, and someone handed Merle a knife. He clamped his teeth around the handle as Daryl started counting, and on two- like you'd expected- Merle screamed again and his eyes rolled back in his head for a minute. 

"Good," Daryl grunted, sounding satisfied. 

Sure. Good. 

Whatever he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Author knows absolutely nothing about anything medical except what she's been through personally, and this is NOT one of those things. I did a quick google search on some of it, but if it's messed up, forgive me. 
> 
> And if you have the knowledge to make this chapter read better, feel free- and in fact, encouraged- to comment and fix my errors. :)


	61. High Class Apocalypse Hooker, Thank You Very Much

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> mentions of past rape/non con

Rick splinted Merle's arm and used several belts to strap it tightly to his side, but as soon as his brother was out of immediate danger of bleeding to death, Daryl was on his feet. He stared down at you where you knelt by Merle, eyes guarded and expression unreadable. You stared back, heart pounding and eyes still full of lingering tears. 

Merle chuckled a little and squeezed your hand before letting go and giving you a nudge. "Go on, little sister. We ain't got much time before we gotta get this show on the road." 

You stood slowly and shoved your loose hair back behind your ears, suddenly nervous and awkward as you stood face to face with Daryl. Hell, you were dressed as one of Negan's wives, and all your fears outside the Sanctuary came crashing back around you. You were terrified that he'd think you'd taken the easy way out, that you'd betrayed him and Alexandria and everything you'd vowed to each other. That he might hate you.

"Hey, Dixon," you said quietly, offering him a tiny smile. On the ground below you, you heard Merle snort, followed by a pained grunt and a muttered curse at Rick. Rick shot back at him to keep his fool ass still then, and you rolled your eyes even as you watched Daryl anxiously. 

He started to move like he wanted to pace, and aborted movement forward that ended with him shuffling in place and staring out at you from under all that hair. You really, really needed to force that man to get a damn haircut.

You tried not to notice he wasn't reaching out to hold you, or think to hard about why. You fidgeted as well, tugging on the hem of the stupid little black dress and scrubbing absently at the streak of Merle's blood already drying on your leg.

"You- you aight, woman?" Daryl asked finally, and you heard that same edge of fear that had been in Merle's voice when he asked you the same thing- amplified by about a thousand percent. A stillness had descended over the clearing, a lack of movement and chatter as they waited to hear what you were going to say, and you remembered just how very public Negan's intentions toward you had been. 

Oh shit. All of these people, your people, were wondering the same thing Merle had been; all of them were worried for you and what you'd been through. Your cheeks burned as you realized what they were all expecting, especially with how you were dressed. But it hadn't been like that. Somehow, that made you feel guilty, like you'd done something wrong or worried them unnecessarily.

It must have been hell for them, for him, knowing what had happened the last time you were taken captive by someone. He'd probably been ready to kill someone, or several someones, and every day that passed had probably just made it worse. And it was all for nothing, because he hadn't laid a hand on you. All that fear and pain and worry you'd caused him, just to turn up unharmed and frankly in better shape than you'd been in for weeks, what with the regular meals that contained actual nutrients and the sleep. 

"I'm fine, Dixon," you whispered, shame at the fact that that was true making your eyes slide away from his and then back. 

"He- did he-" Daryl's voice broke and he looked away from you, his shoulders hunching like he was braced for a blow. His hand reached out toward you, but he snatched it back almost instantly, ducking his head and meeting your eyes again. There was that look, that wild terror, and you stepped forward rapidly and put your hands on either side of his face. You hated that you'd put that look in his eyes; hated that he'd gone through the past week with the weight of that fear on his shoulders, all for nothing; and you had to take it away- even if taking it away meant he would hate you for causing it in the first place.

"He didn't. Didn't even try. It's a weird story, but I promise. I wouldn't lie about it. He didn't touch me." Your own voice hitched a little on the last bit, thinking this was it. He'd be angry at you for putting him through that; angry at you for having it so easy there when he'd been through hell; he'd push you away but at least he wouldn't be so-

He drew in a hard breath, ragged and full of something you couldn't even identify, and he moved. He pulled you close and crushed you to him, arms wrapped so tight around you, you thought you heard your rib cage creak in protest. He buried his face in your neck, and you realized, all the sudden, that he had been waiting to touch you; waiting to see if it was ok, or if you would be too broken to handle it. 

Waiting to see if you'd even want him to at all. 

Yeah, ok, you were a complete fool. An utter idiot. In the space of two minutes, you'd gone from thinking he'd hate you for being a traitor to thinking he'd hate you for not being hurt, when in reality he was just worried about you. Just scared, for you. Keeping his distance, for you- the colossal nincompoop with an extremely messed up psyche. 

God, you loved this man. 

He trembled a little against you as you held on to him tightly, reassuring him in a whisper that you were ok. You were ok; nothing had happened to you; everything was fine. You were out, you were here, you were his. You were ok. 

His hand tangled in your hair as he lifted his face from your neck and leaned his forehead against yours for a heartbeat, relief palpable in his eyes along with the shimmer of tears. Then he was brushing his lips over your cheeks, your nose, your eyes, your forehead, your lips; feather-light touches as he held you tight and you smiled. 

 

 

"How are you here? How? They said- Merle!" He asked the questions in a dazed voice, but he jerked and swung his eyes behind you as he snapped Merle's name. "Ya said we couldn't get her out yet, and she's right fuckin' here!" 

"She got herself out, idiot," Merle called back, on his feet now and looking at his watch. "Baby brother, we gotta get moving. Little sister, darlin', you need to take one of these cars and haul ass back to Alexandria, aight? We got more to do today, brother." 

"Hell naw," Daryl growled, as you drew yourself up indignantly. 

First of all, were these assholes telling you their plan had not involved rescuing you? You weren't mad, necessarily; as long as whatever the plan was had involved winning. After all, leading a charge on the Sanctuary just to try to pry you from Negan's grip was fairly close to suicidal, and there were more people than just you to think about. You could list off hand about seven problems with trying to pull off something like that, all of them resulting in a lot of blood, gore, and death. 

So second, and far, far more importantly- 

"Like fuck am I running back home! Give me a weapon, Rick," you snapped. Daryl jerked against you, sucking in a sharp breath. He searched your face closely, eyes wide with something that looked a lot like panic. When you lifted your eyebrows at him, confused, he relaxed again, a faint smile curling his lips. 

"Here, woman," he said, a curious mix of pride and relief in his voice. He pulled a gun from his back and slapped it into your hand.

You popped the magazine out, checked that it was full, and snapped it back into place. Perfect. You flashed him a grin before asking who had a knife. Merle scowled at you and Rick looked hesitant, but Rick pulled his own knife from his belt- he had that damn ax hanging there, so you didn't have any worries about taking his close-range weapon from him- and passed it to you. 

"What?" you snapped at the two of them as you went to snap the sheath onto your belt. 

Oh. You didn't have a belt. 

You didn't have a belt because you were dressed like some apocalypse hooker. A high class apocalypse hooker, but still. You frowned as the realization hit and Merle gestured toward you. 

"Look at ya, girlie. How ya think you're gonna fight dressed like that?" 

You turned your scowl to him, irritated that someone else was voicing your own thoughts. "How did I help take down a whole damn herd in a wedding dress, asshole? I've got a knife and a gun, I can do anything!" 

"I mean, ya had a belt and some actual shoes for that at least," Daryl muttered, and you rounded on him. He held up his hands, his eyes flashing with obvious amusement. "I ain't sayin' you should run home, just that ya need somethin'." 

"Here, you can use my belt," Francine said from behind you, and you glanced over to see her pulling it out of her jeans. 

"Thanks," you muttered, wrapping it around your hips and snapping the sheathed knife into place. You stuffed the gun through it at the buckle; far from ideal, but better than nothing. Now you just needed shoes and a hair tie, and you'd be good to go. 

"Whatcha gonna do about your feet?" Merle said, sounding amused, and you frowned down and wiggled your toes in the heels. 

"Fuck if I know," you muttered, and Daryl snorted. 

"Leave it. She's comin'." 

"Gabriel's still not here," Rick said suddenly, guilt all over his tone. "He stopped to get me." 

"How's that?" Daryl asked, and Rick sighed. 

"Negan. I was trying to kill him, and Gabriel stopped to get me. We gotta start out," he said, sadness filling his voice. 

Shit. You weren't the father's biggest fan, but even you knew being left behind in that disaster back there was a death sentence you wouldn't have wished on anyone.   
Well, except Negan. 

"You all right?" you asked Rick, and he touched his fingers to your cheek gently for a second and smiled.

"I'm glad you're ok. This isn't about me, though. Let's go," he added, and Merle whistled to the assembled crowd. People started piling back into armored cars, clearly knowing exactly what was going on. 

You, however, did not know any such thing, but you went along as Daryl pulled you toward the bike. You heard your name being called and paused before swinging on, distracted by how exactly to do that in your short skirt. You'd pretty much decided you didn't care if you flashed anyone; you had bigger worries, when you looked over to see a woman you only vaguely recognized jogging toward you with boots and socks in her hands. 

"Here. They might not fit, but they'll be better than nothing. You need them more than I do," she said with a grin. "I'm just going back home now." 

You stammered out your thanks and pulled off the heels, handing them to her so she wouldn't be barefoot. She laughed and carried them with her to slide behind the wheel of one of the armored cars. 

"Well, come on, little sister- put your damn shoes on!" Merle roared in voice you didn't recognize, gesturing impatiently at his watch. "Mission ain't finished yet!"


	62. One Gun Short of the Dream Team and Other Blasts From the Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon typical violence  
> cannon divergence

"What's happening, Dixon? Fill me in!" you yelled over the sound of the bike's engine and the wind, pressed against Daryl's back with your hair flying everywhere. 

As soon as you stopped, you were hacking it all off again, short like Maggie's. She'd had the right damn idea. 

"We're takin' on the outposts now. Got groups goin' to each of 'em. There's one that's supposed to have a shit ton of weapons in it, and that's where we're headed," he called back, and you nodded against his shoulder. 

"Who plotted out this whole thing? From what I've been able to see, it's pretty fuckin' slick." 

He laughed, and you felt it in the hands hooked around his waist. You smiled at the feel, dipping your chin a little to kiss his neck gently. "Merle did," he answered, and you blinked. 

He'd said he was the commander, but seriously? Merle? 

"Merle?" you asked, a little incredulous, and you felt his laugh again. 

"I know. My brother turned into a new fuckin' person when Rick told us that herd was comin' and the plan to get ya out had to be scraped. Soon as he knew our only play was just winnin' the damn war, he was somebody else. Fuckin' soldier," he said. 

"He's pretty good at it," you observed, and Daryl nodded. 

"Yeah." 

 

 

You ditched the bike and Rick's ride and went on foot, and you were glad for your borrowed boots. Daryl took out the guard with his new crossbow, and you were running full tilt up the drive after opening the gates, needing to reach the second guard before anyone noticed the first was down. When you'd ditched the vehicles, they'd filled you in more on the overarching plan. It was pretty damn complex, and you were honestly glad you didn't have to manage all the moving parts on this one. 

Merle was with the rest of the group, holding the line with your Alexandrians to keep the Saviors pinned in the courtyard and distracted, while the three of you went in together. It was originally going to be the two of them going in together, and that had you lifting an eyebrow at them in a mildly disapproving look. 

"You two," you'd muttered under your breath. 

Rick had shaken his head, mock offended but with a smile lurking just under the surface. "Us two? What about you? Don't even know the plan and you were signing up for the adventure, heels and all." 

You laughed. "Of course I did! Miss all this fun? Skip out on a chance to get bloody with these assholes? Hell no. We just need Grimes to round out the team for old time's sake. Where is he, by the way?" 

"Defending home," Rick said with a proud smile, and you smiled back. 

The joy of freedom was wearing off, though, and you were itching for some good old-fashioned revenge. You needed blood on your blade, and you needed these guys to pay. 

 

 

 

Now gunfire split the air from the other side of the building, the signal that your people were in play. Time to dance, motherfuckers.

"I can hear the shooting," the big asshole to your left said into his radio. You didn't make out the answer that came crackling through completely, but you caught the gist- stay there and shut up. As soon as his finger was off the talk button, you struck. 

Two silenced shots later, they were down and you were moving in together. Rick and Daryl lead the way and you paced along at their backs, covering them from behind. You cleared the first floor with the ease of long-time partners and a complete lack of obstacles, and Rick pulled a scrap of paper out of his pocket and glanced at it. 

You nodded in its direction and raised an eyebrow at Daryl. "What's that?" 

"Dwight," he answered in tones of deep disgust. 

Huh. Well, you weren't really surprised. 

"Ain't on this floor," he added to Rick, who tucked his paper away and nodded. 

"Only option is up," he agreed. 

"High ground, good cover," you put in. "Yeah, I'd put them up there too. What exactly are we looking for?" 

"Big ass guns. M2 Browning fifty cals," Rick said grimly, and you whistled. Shit, those were big-ass guns. Definitely didn't want those shits in the Saviors' hands.

"Stairs," Daryl said, gesturing to the doors. 

 

 

Of course they were locked, and of course the boys couldn't kick them in. 

Hey, you weren't saying you could have done better; just that this was an utterly foreseeable turn of events. Based on how your own personal luck seemed to go, of course. Now you were looking up an empty elevator shaft for the fifth time, and you sighed. 

Oh well, you were the idiot who'd wanted to come, damn it. 

"Dumbass bastard dress. Useless piece of shit clothing, barely anything to it and it still manages to get in the fucking way," you were muttering under your breath as you followed them. You brought up the rear because of said dumbass bastard dress, and Rick glanced down at you, amused. 

"Ok down there?" he whispered, lips twitching, and you glared up at him. 

"No one who has pants on gets to speak to me until we're up there," you hissed, and he pressed his lips together to hold back a laugh. 

Above him, Daryl pried open the doors and tossed his crossbow through before hauling himself up. He reached for Rick's hand, and you pulled yourself up to take Rick's spot, clinging like a fucking monkey to the wall of a damn elevator shaft in the zombie apocalypse, in a now-grimy escort dress and someone else's boots. What the hell even is your life?

"Left out the part about your hair this time," Rick commented as the two of them reached down and pulled you up. You glared at them and huffed out a growl while they tried not to laugh at you. 

Then you begrudgingly shoved your hair back out of your way yet again. 

"Need to chop it all off," you declared, reaching for your borrowed knife. 

"Don't ya dare," Daryl growled, giving you a look. It was one of those looks, the kind that set something stirring down in your gut, and Rick let out an despairing groan. 

"Not now, Dixons. We do not have time for you two to start fooling around. Here, try this," he offered, pulling the white band off his arm and handing it to you. You looked at it dubiously, but took it. Anything was better than nothing. With no time for your usual braid, you wrapped the band around your hair and tied it off into a quick ponytail. 

Rick handed you your gun back and he and Daryl moved out of the little alcove you'd been in, back to back in your usual formation to clear the next bit. Nothing- like there'd been nothing on each floor since then, because everyone was down in the courtyard being shot at. Exactly like the plan called for. 

Things had been going a little too according to plan, and your shoulder blades were starting to twitch as you anticipated the inevitable drop of the other shoe.

"Last floor," Rick said. "Guns have gotta be up here." 

"He said they'd be here." Daryl said, emphasizing the he in a skeptical tone. 

"Everything else he's passed you is checking out."

"Just how much of his word are we relying on here?" you asked. You weren't complaining, mind, just trying to get a feel for things. 

"Part him, part Merle. Merle thought they'd be here too, but he wasn't sure. Negan never let him go to the outposts for long, so we needed Dwight's information," Rick answered you. 

"That guy's a piece of shit," Daryl put in. 

"Those guns get to the Sanctuary, they could cut through those walkers and free up an exit," Rick snapped, clearly having been through this same argument before. 

"This'll go faster if we split up, boys," you said mildly, directing attention away from the brewing argument. "Any of us find those M2s, we use them, hit the courtyard right then and there." 

Rick nodded, and Daryl smacked his arm in that guys-after-a-fight way. 

"End this quick," he said, and Rick nodded, accepting the not actually uttered apology. You shook your head at them fondly. Men.

"Careful, boys," you said, Rick nodding at you too as he moved off in one direction. Daryl kissed your cheek as he brushed past you to go the other way, and you squared your shoulders and headed in a third. 

 

 

This was boring as shit, since there was nothing there so far but living quarters. Where were these freaking guns? 

You cleared a couple rooms before you had a bright idea. The next room was someone's bedroom, and you slid in, cleared it, and closed the door behind you. A quick glance showed clothes and shit piled on a shelf and you grinned. 

Bingo. 

Luckily whoever it was who had this room was close enough to your size that you could make it work, tightening your borrowed belt to keep the size-too-big pants in place. You tanked a basic tee shirt over your head and pondered what to do with the little black dress where it lay crumpled on the floor. Burn it? Rip it to shreds?   
Take it with you because its not like you had any dresses at home? 

Ugh, definitely not that. 

You left it on the floor behind you without a backwards glance. 

 

 

The rest of the place was going pretty smoothly, until you heard the single shot from a few doors down. 

Damn it. There's the other shoe.

You kept clearing, finishing out the rooms on your stretch before backtracking toward the sound. You hadn't seen any sign of guns anywhere. Just offices and bedrooms and offices being used as bedrooms. 

Your eyes were hard as you moved silently through the places, looking for either of the others. You ran into Daryl first, coming from around a corner, and he jerked his bow away at the last second before he fired. 

"Hell, woman. Coulda killed you! Where'd ya get the clothes?" he whispered. 

You shrugged. "Stole them. Dress wasn't exactly practical, you know." 

He snorted. "No shit." 

"Hear the shot?" you asked as the two of you kept moving. You glanced over at him and his jaw clenched. 

"Yeah," he muttered. "Guess it was Rick?" 

You nodded. "Guess so." 

 

 

"You can say all the words. Lori. Shane. Andrea. Glenn." 

You shot a look at Daryl as the unfamiliar voice named your dead, your dead from all the way back at the beginning, and he glanced back at you. You raised your eyebrows at him, but he shook his head grimly. You nodded, and the two of you kept moving forward, Dixon silent through the office suite. 

"They're all dead, and somewhere along the way, Officer Friendly died right along with 'em." 

Huh. Someone else who liked nicknames. Yeah, Cowboy was better for Rick. He hadn't really been an officer of the law in a long time, but maybe that was the point whoever this asshole was was trying to make. 

"Just like I did, with them. That's what I know, Rick." 

You were on either side of the door, and you took a quick glance inside. Daryl followed your motion, and nodded at you. You slipped through the door, stepping up behind the guy who had a gun on Rick. 

"Wait, no!" Rick called, raising a hand, and the guy spun around. You shifted your grip on Rick's knife, annoyed as hell that Rick had given you away, and a bolt from Daryl sunk between the man's eyes. You bent and scooped up his gun, stuffing it into your new belt with the one Daryl had given you. 

"What the hell, Cowboy?" you asked, turning to him and huffing loose strands of hair from your eyes. 

Rick shot a glance over your new clothes but said nothing, looking at Daryl instead, his eyes sad and lost. "That- that was-" 

"I know who it was," Daryl interrupted him. You glanced between them- Rick's shocked face and Daryl's impassive one- and sighed. 

"Well, I don't know who he was. Anyone want to tell me?" 

Daryl glanced at you as he pulled his bolt from the guy's face. "It don't matter. Not one little bit." 

"He was Morales. We knew him from Atlanta, from the quarry. From the beginning," Rick said slowly. 

You thought back to everything they'd told you about that time. Morales, Morales, Morales- "Family that left separately when you headed for the CDC?" 

Daryl grunted an acknowledgement. 

"What was he doing all the way up here?" you asked, mildly surprised. 

"Don't matter. He was one of them. Find them guns?" Daryl shot at Rick, scanning the room like the guns would turn up sitting in a corner like one of Michonne's crazy cat statues.

Rick looked at him for a moment and Daryl looked back, and you wondered what had been happening while you were gone. Tensions were high, man. 

"They aren't here," Rick started, bending down to collect his own guns from the floor.

"What?" Daryl snarled, but Rick was continuing,

"He called the Saviors back from the courtyard. We gotta get out before-" 

And a door thudded open somewhere close by. Because of course it did.


	63. Double Crosses, Dumbasses, and Dixons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> mid to major character death

"They're here," Rick Dramatic Son of Bitch Grimes stated. You smothered a laugh. 

"No shit," you shot back at him instead, and the three of you were moving again with Daryl in the lead as you hauled ass for the elevator shaft. You were in the center with Rick bringing up the rear, and you were right there- right there!- when the bullets started flying. 

Sigh. 

You and Rick ducked into one doorway and Daryl ducked into another as you were cut off from both directions. You started looking around quickly for an escape, a plan, something, as the boys started taking pot shots and the Saviors started taking pot shots back. You got the point- keep them from moving up just as they were keeping you from moving anywhere, either- but it all seemed like such a waste of ammunition, really. Following right on the heels of that thought was Daryl's whistle and his hissed "I'm out!" 

You spotted it on the wall as Rick leaned around and fired once, twice- click. 

"I'm out too," he muttered, and looked over his shoulder at Daryl. Daryl glanced at the two of you, and you pulled your gun for the first time and grinned. 

"Lucky for you, boys- I'm not," you muttered to Rick, and flashed a hand gesture at Daryl. His eyes lit up and he nodded as Rick slapped a hand on your shoulder twice. Good to go, then. You aimed, fired once, and smoke began to fill the air with haze when your shot winged the fire extinguisher across the hallway from you. 

Daryl dove for your door and Rick pulled him in as you switched the gun for your knife and waited for the inevitable approach of Saviors. 

 

 

You heard the footsteps and looked below the level of the surrounding fog, waiting for the feet. When you saw them, you pounced on the back of one. Your knife found his throat and ripped, and he dropped dead as hands grabbed at you from behind. You whirled; brought your knife up and under and into his jaw, driving it up with all the pent-up fury of the last week or so. 

Blood poured over your hands and onto your brand-new clothes, and you sighed and shook your head as you kicked the body backwards. There was a scream and a thud as one of the boys shoved someone down the open elevator shaft. You laughed over the sound of blows being traded, glad to finally be back in action, and then there was more screaming and gunfire dropped the last few bodies at your feet. 

"Teams of four, sweep the offices!" Merle's voice came from the distance. 

You grinned. "Merle!" 

"YN? Daryl?" 

God, you didn't think you'd heard him use Daryl's name in ages. Usually it was little brother or baby bro, but he was playing soldier right now. Well, not playing so much; since he actually had been one. You were the one who was usually playing, making shit up as you went along. 

"We're by the elevator!" Rick yelled back. 

Guess the mess outside was over. But wait- 

"How did they get up the stairs?" you complained, and Rick's laugh shot out like he couldn't help himself while Daryl scowled and yanked you in against him roughly to kiss you. 

"Got blood all over me," you warned him, but he shook his head. 

"What's new? Don't care. C'mere," he muttered, and you obliged. 

 

 

Merle and company reached you easily, and you cast a quick glance over them to see who was there and who was missing. Tobin, Scott, Aaron, and several others from Alexandria gave you nods and pats on the back, but among the absent were Francine and Eric. 

Shit. You tried to tell yourself they could have just been waiting in the courtyard or coming in from a different direction, but there was something about Aaron's eyes. You felt dread coiling in the bottom of your stomach as you and the boys scooped up Savior guns and made sure there wouldn't be any walkers. 

You wondered who you'd lost in the battle for Alexandria; who you'd lost at the other two outposts. You weren't naive enough to believe you could pull this off without any casualties, and it made tears prickle in the backs of your eyes. 

Merle swept a look over you and Daryl, head to toe, and nodded. "Little sister needs an armband. Rick, where's yours?" 

"In my hair," you answered, and something danced in Merle's eyes, but he didn't say anything. 

"We'll get ya one. Got a few don't need 'em anymore." 

Shit. 

 

 

You batted cleanup with the others, taking care of the dead and the risen dead, and tried not to think too much. Rick went around taking Polaroids of the decimation in the courtyard, and you tried not to think about that. Tobin was helping the wounded- which included Tobin, though he was ignoring the bullet hole in his shoulder- into the bed of a truck to head back home, and you tried not to think about home. Scott was draping sheets over the six bodies on the ground, including Francine's, and you didn't want to think about that either. 

Or about Aaron, jogging over to tree where he'd left Eric, and the look on his face when he'd come back leaning on Scott and holding Eric's gun. You definitely didn't want to think about that. 

Merle was leaned over a truck, scribbling out copies of updates and next steps to send to your allies and other forces. That- that was something you could think about, and you wandered to his side and leaned on the truck. 

"What's next, big brother?" you ask him quietly, and he sighed. 

"Still gotta find them guns, little sister," he answered grimly. "Worries ol' Merle that they weren't here." 

"Well, Fuck-face Dwight lied," you said with a shrug. "Happened before." 

"He's been right about everything else so far, girlie. Don't make sense he would lie now." 

You considered it. If the Saviors got their hands on those guns, they could go back to Sanctuary and cut through the walkers in about two seconds, and Dwight helping your people with any part of the plan would have been for nothing. After all, the whole point had been to block them in, starve them a little, get them to surrender. You weren't supposed to have been rescued, so the operation would have been null and void; a complete loss of time and bullets if the Saviors got out.   
Maybe that was the point? But if the point was failure, why risk sending a message to help you at all? 

Your head hurt, and not just from biting concrete a few hours ago. 

"Glad you're the one in charge of this thing, Merle," you said with a shake of your head. 

He laughed, harshly, and scooped up his letters. 

"I ain't," he told you with a shake of his head and a hard look in his eyes. 

 

 

People were moving quickly, most to head home to Alexandria to defend against the off chance that the Saviors broke out, others to pull away the herd heading toward all the noise your people had made and direct it toward the Sanctuary as well. 

And Rick brought a baby out of the outpost. 

She was a little thing, wrapped in a pink blanket, and you realized you'd probably killed her parents here today. You felt a tear slip down your cheek and you dashed it away angrily. You couldn't afford to feel bad over this. You'd offered the chance at surrender, and they chose not to take it.

"She was inside?" Tobin asked, and Rick nodded. 

"She was. I have- I have a stop to make, and Daryl's got his bike. Maybe she can go back with you or Scott," he said as Tobin ran a hand over the baby's fine hair. 

"She can go with me." Aaron's voice cracked, but he stepped forward despite the tears in his eyes. "I can, uh, take her to the Hilltop. She'll be safe there." 

"Aaron," you whispered, as Rick stepped over to him and gave him a compassionate look. 

"You sure?" he asked, and Aaron nodded rapidly. 

"We were gonna go there after and update Maggie. So that's what I'm going to do," he answered, taking the baby- Gracie- and sliding into his car with her when Rick nodded. 

Merle let out a whistle and circled his finger in the air, and the cars all started pulling out as he walked over to you, Rick, and Daryl. 

 

 

"Sure you wanna talk to them assholes alone?" Daryl asked Rick, who nodded. You glanced between them, wondering which assholes they were talking about, specifically, and then it hit you. 

The pictures, the assholes, Rick going alone. 

"For shit's sake, Rick! Merle! The garbage people? They double crossed us!" you snapped, tossing your hands in the air with a groan. 

"They did," Rick agreed. "They won't again." 

"Putting an awful lot of faith in people who've fucked us over before on this one, boys," you warned. "Don't think it's a good idea." 

"It's how it gets done," Rick said. "Need the numbers." 

"If you're gone too long, I'm gonna come looking for you," you warned Rick, who grinned. 

"That's the plan, little sister," Merle drawled lazily. 

 

 

Because it had to be somewhere around step three in this plan- you know, the one where things always go wrong- that's when someone started shooting at you. 

"Shit!" you snapped, diving for cover with the other three. Your gun was out, like them, and you were crouched behind the cement block that held up a lamp post with Daryl. Merle and Rick were behind Rick's Jeep, and Rick held up a hand to keep the two of you silent. 

"Hey!" he called out. "You're alone. You got to be. Not enough room for two of you behind that tree. And there's a herd coming. I'm just sayin'." 

Pause, silence. No gunshots, so that was good. 

"I tell you what," Rick called, and you ignored the look he gave you as you shifted for a better angle. 

Maybe you could get around, come behind the tree and end this shit? 

"Make you a deal. You drop your gun and come on out. You tell us what we need to know. You do that, you can take the car. You go. You live. How about it?" 

Another pause, and then a voice came from behind the tree. "Why should I trust you?" 

"Because I'm giving you my word," Rick answered promptly. "Not a lot that's worth much these days, but a man's word... That's gotta mean something, right?" 

Well, it wouldn't have meant anything to you, but the guy agreed. He came out from behind the tree, limping, and asked what you wanted to know as the four of you closed in on him. 

"Ever have any M2 Browning .50 caliber guns here?" Rick asked. 

"We did, for awhile," the guy answered. "They got sent to another outpost yesterday!" 

"Which one?" 

"It was Gavin's. West of here." 

You nodded. Negan had let you in a few of his meetings, and you'd gotten glimpses at some of his papers as well. Gavin's outpost was the one near Phaze, a compound made up of three garrisons. You glanced at Merle, whose eyes looked pinched and hard now, and you wondered who all was taking care of that outpost. They were walking into a shit ton of trouble, and they were doing it blind. 

"Can I, uh- can I go?" the Savior asked, and you and Daryl both fired at the same time. Bam, and they guy was dead. 

Merle didn't bat an eye, but Rick spun around and glared at the two of you. You shrugged. 

"Didn't give him my word. Who's at Gavin's outpost?" You and the Dixons were already heading toward your vehicles, and Rick followed you without answering. 

But Merle did. 

"Ezekiel's people. Carol's there."


	64. Trading Haymakers On the Side of the Road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

Rick followed along in his Jeep behind you and Daryl on the bike. Daryl had opened up the throttle and you were flying, flying, flying toward the outpost. 

Talking Merle out of coming with you had been a Herculean effort you'd almost given up on. You knew exactly how much it would have taken to convince you to stay behind had your situations been reversed, but he was still too pale and had his broken, stitched-up arm strapped to his side with belts. 

Belts, man. 

He'd begrudgingly- extremely begrudgingly- conceded the point when you'd tossed him one of the Savior's rifles and pointedly asked him to fire. With only one working arm, he'd been unable to, and you'd raised one eyebrow and stared him down. 

"Fine! You win, little sister. I'll see ya at home, then, after I check on the snipers around the Sanctuary. Handle those damn guns, would ya?" 

You stepped up and kissed his cheek. "We will. Take care of that arm, and tell Grimes we'll be home soon." 

 

You were pulling up to the compound when you saw the military truck pull out, gravel shooting as it sped down the highway. 

"Hang on, woman. Could get rough," Daryl called, but you yelled in his ear. 

"No, let me off. I'll do a sweep for anyone who survived." 

"Ya sure?" 

"Yeah. See you at home, Dixon," you said cheerfully, kissing his cheek as he pulled the bike around and blew past Rick to head back toward the compound. He got close and slowed, and you tossed yourself off the bike and rolled, springing up and running as he laid the damn thing all the way open to catch back up to the others. 

He and Rick would get the guns, since you were pretty sure that's what was in the truck. You were going to find Carol. 

If anyone was still alive in there, it was going to be her. 

 

You slipped toward the compound, and holy fuck there were a lot of walkers around. Noise here must have drawn them, you realized, like it had at the Sanctuary and at the first outpost you'd visited. 

Your heart clenched when you saw the armor and the red arm bands around far, far too many of them. Ezekiel's people had been wrecked by the fifty cals, if the state of the walkers was any indication. 

You scanned the compound and the walkers as you circled the place, eventually deciding that there were just too damn many of them for you to get in on your own. You'd need to wait a while for them to get distracted and wander away, or you'd need someone to watch your back. Maybe Ninja Jesus could have gotten in on his own, but you couldn't. 

Suicide missions weren't really your jam, so you decided to call it off and see if there was any way to catch up with the boys, or if you were hoofing it all the way back. Either way, you needed to hop back on the main road.

 

 

You reached them just in time to see Daryl hauling Rick up the embankment with no Savior vehicle in sight- you could deduce where the thing went- and someone's body on the ground. 

Interesting. 

"Boys," you called as you slowed from your steady jog. "I see we won." 

Rick shot you a not-amused glance as you walked up to them. They stood looking down at the Savior's vehicle, turned on its side at the bottom of the hill. Daryl grunted, reaching out to wrap his arm around your shoulders as you joined the two of them in looking down. 

"Got the guns," he said mildly. 

"Let's go talk to the son of a bitch," Rick added. 

"Wait, he's alive?" you said in surprise. "Couldn't get in the compound, by the way. Walkers everywhere. Most of them were the Kingdom's," you added grimly, and Rick and Daryl looked as each other. 

"Shit," Daryl muttered. 

 

The guy'd been stabbed in the stomach and looked rough. You supposed being stabbed in the stomach could do that to you. 

"So," you said conversationally as you dropped to a crouch beside him. "You look like shit. Did your people win?" 

Daryl and Rick stood over you, guns drawn, and the guy currently choking on his own lungs looked at you with hate-filled eyes. 

"Nobody won," he got out. 

You nodded slowly as Daryl shoved his gun in the guy's face. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?" he snapped. 

"Everyone's dead," the asshole coughed. 

"Everyone?" you asked with a raise of your eyebrows. "Surely not everyone. Otherwise, why were you running so fast?" 

"No one else survived? You're the only one?" Rick asked, sounding a little panicked. 

"Me. The King. The Axe Man. And a short-haired psycho lady." 

You immediately started laughing so hard you fell down from your toes to sit beside the dying man. "Oh God. That's so accurate it hurts," you gasped out. 

Sure, the utter destruction of the Kingdom was no laughing matter, and your heart hurt for all that Ezekiel's people had lost. But that description of Carol... 

Spot freakin' on. 

"You did this," the Savior accused. "My people. Your people. They're all gone." 

You nodded, sobering pretty much instantly. "Yes, we did. And now you too," you added, and sank your blade in behind his ear. 

 

Getting the guns out of the Savior's vehicle was a two-man job, and lucky for you, you had two men handy. 

Ok, fine- you'd tried to help and they'd told you to stay up there on the bank and keep an eye out for walkers. Noise and shit, and you weren't that far from the compound, after all. It was a valid point, but you had a feeling it was, on Daryl's side at least, more about keeping you away from the wrecked vehicle filled with explosives and really, really big bullets. 

Seeing as how it gave you the chance to stand on the bank and yell extremely helpful suggestions at them- "Lift with your knees" and "be careful, those could explode you know" were pretty big hits, if the glares that came your way were any indication- you weren't really complaining. Plus, you did have to handle a couple walkers. They came one at a time and were pretty easily dispatched, but still. They weren't necessarily wrong to have kept you up there. 

Sexist, but not wrong. 

Of course, you couldn't hear their conversation very well unless they yelled. That wasn't a big deal until they were toe to toe and obviously arguing, Rick grabbing Daryl's shoulder and Daryl rounding on him with that look- 

You started to wonder if you needed to go down there and diffuse the Dixon-Grimes grudgefest about to happen. 

"We got our own people to look after!" Daryl yelled, and started to walk away. You relaxed, just a little- you know, like a moron- and Rick started after him. 

"I'm not letting you do this!" you heard him call, and he grabbed Daryl by the shoulder again. 

Oh fucking hell.

Daryl came around swinging, knocking Rick on his ass with that one blow, and you muttered a plethora of profanity as you scrambled down the hill. Rick tackled Daryl; Daryl rolled Rick and took another swing, and what the hell could they possibly be arguing about that would lead to this? 

The one and only time you'd ever seen them trade punches was when Daryl found out the Governor wasn't actually dead and Rick had known the whole time. 

"Damn it, Dixon! Cowboy!" you yelled as you tripped and rolled down the last little bit, springing to your feet in time to see Rick snatch the bag full of explosives that they'd gathered and fling it back into the overturned vehicle. 

The vehicle got more than a passing moment of your time when you saw that it was leaking gasoline everywhere. It distracted you just enough with that pressing fact for Daryl to get Rick into a choke hold and have him on the ground.

"Daryl!" you yelled, eyes going wide, as you saw the smoke. A heartbeat later, flames sprang up from the truck's engine. 

You took two steps and grabbed Daryl's arm, and his rage-filled eyes turned to you. 

"Shit, Daryl!" Rick croaked from Daryl's hold, and you tossed up your hands in annoyance as Daryl's eyes went wide. 

Of course, when Rick fuckin' points it out, he pays attention. Men. 

"Get up!" Daryl yelled urgently, hauling Rick to his feet now when about five seconds before he'd been trying to kill him. They both grabbed your arms and shoved you ahead of them, not that they needed to because you were already moving. 

About two seconds later, the truck blew and all three of you were in the air.

 

 

"Are you happy now?" you snapped at the both. Rick looked chagrined and mildly put out, more concerned about the punch he'd taken based off the way he wiped blood off his jaw and winced, but Daryl was pissed as hell. 

Smaller explosions continued to sound from the truck as Daryl tried to burn a hole in Rick's head with the power of his angry eyes. 

"Idiots!" you shot at them both, setting off back toward the road and leaving them sitting there, side by side as they watched everything they'd been trying to get blow up bit by bit. 

Served them both fucking right.


	65. That's The Dixon Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence

Rick didn't do anything but glare at you when his Jeep wouldn't start. You leaned against the engine, arms crossed, and looked at him as he scooped up the Polaroids from the seat beside him. 

"What?" he finally muttered, and both your eyebrows shot up to your hairline. 

"Seriously? You're asking me that? What the hell was all that about, Cowboy?"

Rick's jaw clenched so hard the muscles in his neck stood out sharply. "A difference in opinion," he ground out between his teeth. 

You laughed, but it didn't sound amused. "No shit, Sherlock! Rick, I've seen you guys take swings at each other literally once. And he's a Dixon! You didn't get into a fight over Merle, over anything at the prison, over Shane; nothing. The one and only time anything like this has happened between you two was over the Governor not being dead. So what gives, man?" 

"Twice," Rick muttered as he looked at the ground. 

"Huh?" you asked, like the incredibly articulate adult you were. 

"Twice. We've fought like that twice. Once in Atlanta, before we found you." 

"Yeah?" you asked, intrigued, because that was a story you'd never heard before. 

"Yeah. I had to tell him I'd handcuffed Merle to the roof and we'd left him there. He wasn't happy about it," Rick said dryly, looking off up the road where Daryl'd stalked off to get his bike. "He wanted to blow a hole in the Sanctuary. Let the walkers flood in, and take the place that way." 

You blinked at him, still imagining Rick and Daryl fighting over Merle, back before you'd even known them. Cowboy still in that damn sheriff's uniform, Daryl very much the redneck asshole you'd first met? Oh yeah, you could see it. Both of them had mellowed- at least toward each other- considerably since then. 

"Wait, that's it? So why the punches? That sounds like a great plan to me," you put in with a shrug. 

"There are women and children in there. Workers and their families who aren't fighters. What about them?" Rick turned his glare on you, leaning in close and looking up from his ducked head, the way he did when he was really, really serious about something. 

You considered that. Ok, yes, bombing women and children and non combatants wasn't exactly a thrilling prospect for you. On the other hand, ending this shit now instead of waiting two days and trying, once again, for surrender... 

Well, let's just say it certainly had some appeal. 

On the other, other hand, you'd talked a big game for awhile about sustainability and government and order. Now it was time to put your money where your mouth was, and here you were at the first sign of trouble considering fucking off down the road to the easy way out. 

Shit, Rick was right. That was going to make for an unpleasant conversation with Dixon. 

As if on cue, you heard the roar of the bike, and he was skidding to a stop beside you and Rick. 

"Wanna get back outta my girl's face there?" Daryl growled to Rick, and you shot an irritated look at him. 

"Don't make shit up to be pissed about, Dixon," you snapped. Rick touched your shoulder gently and stepped toward the back of the vehicle as Daryl glared at the road in front of him. Rick shoved the photos in his back pocket and pulled his gun from the back of the Jeep, talking a couple long strides toward Daryl. 

You waited a bit, casting your eyes heavenward in a desperate plea for patience to whoever the fuck might be listening before joining them. 

"There's a plan," Rick growled, not looking at Daryl and Daryl not looking at him. "We got to see it through." 

"Plan went to shit already," Daryl snarled. 

"Not yet. We took more losses than we were hoping, but technically the plan is still working," you pointed out, taking a step forward to stand between them. Look at you, trying to bridge the gap, so to speak. Take the hint, boys. 

Daryl just grunted. "We gotta win." 

Rick sighed. "Yeah, we gotta. But we gotta do it right." 

This time you looked down at the ground to roll your eyes hard, hoping that since god wasn't answering your need for patience, maybe the devil would engage in some good old fashioned sarcasm with you instead. 

"Choke hold's illegal, asshole," Rick muttered when Daryl didn't say anything else. You glanced at him, eyebrows raising, and there was the smallest of smiles on his lips. He was still pissed as hell, but it was clearly some sort of inside joke between them. 

You were going to have to get the full story of that fight out of someone. Probably Carl.

"Mm-hmm," Daryl said, and you heard the suppressed laughter under it. He was pissed too, and didn't want to admit that he'd gotten the joke. "Yes, it is." 

Idiots. 

You shook your head at both of them as Rick grabbed your hand and kissed your cheek. 

"I'm glad you're out of there, YN. Talk some sense into this asshole, will you? Looks like I'm walking," he added with a glance at Daryl. 

"Yep," Daryl agreed, firing up the bike. He still hadn't looked at Rick, and you rolled your eyes again. "C'mon, woman," he snapped over the roar of the engine. 

"Be careful, Cowboy. Don't make me come looking for you." You squeezed Rick's hand and he nodded. 

"I'll meet you when I'm done with the last play," he said. 

"You sure about doin' it?" Daryl asked, and while he didn't turn to look at Rick, you took it as a good sign that he'd spoke at all. 

"Yeah. I am," Rick declared, and he was walking. 

God help you, sometimes you did not understand these men.

 

 

Daryl was silent and tense the whole ride home to Alexandria, and you decided it might be best to just let the man be. You pressed a kiss to his neck and leaned your cheek against his shoulder, and he tipped his head to yours for a minute in acknowledgement. The wind was rushing over you and you closed your eyes, realizing for the first time that it had been one hell of a crazy day and you were tired. 

Merle met you at the gates and you shot him a glare as Daryl slowed and cut the engine. 

"What the hell are you doing on the gates? You should be getting some sleep or something!" you scolded pretty much immediately, and he laughed. 

"Glad to see you too, little sister. Rosita patched me up right enough, darlin'. Plan's still in effect, ain't it? Got letters due in any time now from the Kingdom and the Hilltop. What about them guns?" he asked Daryl with a sharp look. 

Daryl sighed. "We got 'em. Rick let 'em blow up. Ain't no Kingdom anymore." 

You were beginning to think your eyes were going to take up permanent residence in the back of your head, you'd been rolling them so much. "You left out nine tenths of the pertinent information and managed to make Rick come off as the bad guy; well done, Dixon," you muttered, and he turned his glare on you. 

"What?" he snapped. "Guns blew up, didn't they? Rick tossed the damn bag back in the truck, didn't he? Ain't no more fighters in the Kingdom, are there?" 

"You been bitchin' all week about gettin' her back, little brother, and ya fighting with her already?" Merle said, irritation lacing his voice, and Daryl was turning on him too. You shoved yourself in between the two of them, planting your feet firmly and glaring from one to the other. 

"Ok, boys. We can fight about whatever's actually going on, or we can talk about the plan, but we're not just going to sit here and take shots at each other, am I clear?" you ordered, and both of them shuffled their feet and looked away. Daryl raised his hand to his mouth like he wanted to chew on this nail, then tossed his hand back down to his side in disgust. 

After a moment of silence you let out a breath. "Ok. Good. Merle, the longer version of the story is, the Kingdom got ripped to shreds by the guns. I saw a ton of their walkers myself, so I'm inclined to believe the Savior who told us that only himself, Carol, Ezekiel, and Jerry survived. The Savior's dead now, so there's that. But Rick and Daryl intercepted the truck with the guns and with a bunch of other explosives, and then they got in a fight over the proper use thereof- which Dixon and I are going to talk about in detail very soon," you added with a pointed look at Daryl. 

He scoffed, tossed his head, and rolled his shoulders, but then he looked back at you with a guilty little smile. "I'll apologize to Rick when he gets back," he muttered, and you grinned. 

"I think that'd be good," you told him easily, and turned back to Merle. "All the weapons went up in a very impressive explosion with the truck they were in, and Rick headed on to see the garbage people. For the official record, I think trying to get them to help is an extremely bad idea. There, that's what we know. What about you?" 

Merle shook his head, a distant look in his eyes. "Poor Carol," he muttered. "Damn shame 'bout the Kingdom. Damn shame. Shit, just makes going forward slowly, and gettin' them garbage assholes help, all the more important." 

Daryl was scowling at his brother. "Look, I got it, aight? Won't do nothin' stupid to mess up the plan." 

Yeah, he wasn't dumb, your brother in law. People could easily miss it, but he was damn smart under that hick drawl and offensive front he put up.

You shook your head at both of them. "Doesn't take long for the Dixon clan, does it? We go from zero to sixy in three point five." 

Both of them grinned at you. 

"Hell, little sister, that's the Dixon way," Merle drawled. 

 

Merle wouldn't go back home, but you and Daryl did. 

Daryl headed for the shower pretty much immediately, and you were going to leave him alone, really you were. But he left the door open and shrugged out of his shirt and you happened to glance in and see him contorting to try to look in the mirror at the strip of nasty road burn running from his shoulder down to his hip. You sighed and leaned in the door frame. 

"What else you got, Dixon?" you asked wearily, and he met your eyes in the mirror. 

"Ain't nothin', woman," he muttered, but he winced a little when he shrugged. 

"Uh-huh." You shook your head at him and stepped into the bathroom, slipping by him to open the closet. You pulled out the last bottle of hydrogen peroxide, pleased that it was still there. That meant there hadn't been too many injuries while you were at the Sanctuary. 

Or that they'd been left totally untreated. Both possibilities were likely, Dixons being Dixons. 

"Come on, you know the drill," you told Daryl, a soft smile on your lips. He huffed at you, but you could see, under all that hair, that he was smiling too. 

He braced his hands on the sink and shook the hair out of his eyes as you took a look at that road burn. For the most part, it was just irritation, like carpet burn on steroids. It'd annoy the piss out of him, but it was hardly worth treating. Your fingers feathered lightly over it as you checked, and you felt him shiver a little at your touch. 

There was one spot, though, up on his shoulder. Maybe his shirt had ridden weird; maybe that was where he hit first when he wrecked, but it was deeper and harsher than the rest, bruises spreading out from the abrasion. You didn't touch that one with your fingers, bending close to see if there were any tiny rocks or shit lodged inside. Sure enough, he'd picked up a little gravel. 

"Got some shit in this one, Dixon. Gotta get it out. Stubborn asshole, you just gonna let it get infected?" you muttered to him, shifting a little to grab the glass you always kept handy on the side of the sink. "Here, lean forward," you told him, and he bent obligingly over so you could dump water over his shoulder. 

"Naw," he said mildly as you followed the water with the peroxide and looked again. "Was gonna leave it till ya bitched at me, then let you do it." 

He laughed when you smacked the back of his head lightly, but you were grinning too. 

"Sounds about right for you, Dixon. Alright, you'll live. Wanna tell me what happened with Rick?" You shifted so you were leaning against the wall beside the sink, crossing your arms. He sighed. 

"Not really. Just want this shit over with," he muttered. He scowled at you. "Aight, woman, your turn. C'mon, get outta that borrowed shit." 

"Daryl Dixon, you trying to get me naked?" 

He shot you a smirk and tossed the hair from his face. "Ain't that hard, is it? C'mon. Scared me, woman," he added softly, grabbing your hand and pulling him to you. "Let me make sure you're aight." 

You held your arms up in the air as you smiled at him and he huffed again, shaking his head and rolling his eyes at you. But he grabbed the hem of your stolen shirt and tugged it off you quickly, tossing it to the floor as he pushed you back against the sink. He ran his eyes over you rapidly, then tugged you up and turned you around so he could skim his fingers down your back as he checked for cuts, scrapes, bites, whatever. 

When his arms wrapped around you and he pressed his forehead to your shoulder, holding you back against him, you let out a long sigh. "Shower?" you murmured after a minute, and he nodded into your shoulder. 

"Yeah. Just... hang on, woman. Ya don't- Fuck," he finished in a whisper. "I wanna kill 'em all. Soon as I saw him drivin' away with you- I'd have set fire to the place myself. Was out the gate and heading there on foot when Merle tackled me." 

He lifted his head from your shoulder and you turned around so you could wrap one arm around him and run the other hand through his hair. He leaned into your touch and shivered again. 

"Shit, woman. I didn't know what to think. He said all that shit, 'bout makin' you his wife. I knew you'd do whatever he asked if he threatened here. I know ya, damn fool. Cain't keep yourself out of harm's way to save your life." 

"Not about saving my life, asshole," you muttered, and he rolled his eyes at you. 

"Shut up, would ya?" he said without any heat to it. His hands ran over your skin absently, stroking down your back and over your arms, fingers raking through your hair, thumbs brushing your hips. He bit his lip as he shook his head, gnawing on the cracked and dry skin of it like he did on his fingernails. "Every time I think I'm the scaredest I'll ever be, somethin' happens and I realize there's always somethin' worse. Tired of it. Tired of bein' scared. I fought Rick 'cause he wants to do the right thing, the good thing. He wants to save people'n build something. But Negan, he saves people. He builds things. I just wanna win, woman. I just wanna win and be done with this bullshit. Wanna be safe; want you'n'me'Merle, every one of our people, safe. Even if it means lettin' innocent people die." 

He had tears in his eyes as you kissed him gently, running your fingers over his jaw. 

"Dixon. I want us safe too. You being with them? Jesus. It damn near killed me. But it didn't. It didn't kill us. We always find a way back to each other." Your voice was gentle as you stroked his cheek. "Merle and Rick are right, Dixon. They have the right plan." 

You shook your head, face serious. "Winning at any cost? That's no victory. We have to do better; to be better. If not for ourselves, then for Carl and Judith and Maggie and Glenn's baby. That little girl Rick found in the outpost today. We have to teach them that life wasn't always about survival of the fittest, and it doesn't have to only be about that now." 

He nodded, not looking in your eyes, as his hands came to rest on either side of you against the sink's edge, caging you in with his arms. "I know. I know. Just want us to be the ones that come out on top for once," he muttered. 

You sighed, deciding it was time to change the subject before you ran out of hot water. "Well, if you want to talk about being on top..." 

Daryl growled, low in his throat, and you were grinning when he pressed in against you and claimed your mouth with his.


	66. Shit Happened and People Were Sorry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

A couple of hours later, the two of you strolled back out into Alexandria hand in hand and considerably more relaxed. Daryl was even smiling faintly- either from your shower shenanigans or at the fact that you'd stolen his clothes again, in deliberate retaliation against Negan's stupid little black dress. 

The state of your house was something you were trying very hard not to think about, though you'd bitched at Daryl thoroughly over it while twisting your wet hair back up into a braid. There was absolutely no reason for two grown ass men and one grown ass woman to have this much of a damn mess. Sure, Carol had handled most of the housework- a thought that gave you creeping guilt as you realized just how much she'd casually taken on, since you could guess she'd been doing Rick's as well, at the very least- but you'd done well enough while you were on your own. Now you'd been gone for a week, and while the kitchen was pretty clean, the bathrooms needed a scrub, the floors had mud, blood, and what you really hoped wasn't shit tracked all over the downstairs, and there was laundry everywhere in your room. 

"Damn it, woman, we had some other things on our minds, ya know," Daryl'd growled back, and you'd looked down your nose and told him to pick his shit up. His lips had twitched when you'd said something about flesh-eating bacteria in those disgusting pants he'd left in the corner. 

You'd have to work out some sort of fairly evenly split cleaning and laundry schedule with the boys now that Carol was gone- Daryl'd told you reluctantly that he was pretty sure she was permanently set up in the Kingdom now, and you were sad, but really not surprised at all- and come up with a way to enforce it. Like hell were you going to be stuck keeping the place clean just because you had tits, and you weren't going to nag the shit out of them to do it either. But that was a problem for another day. 

"YN!?" 

You turned with a grin, and Daryl laughed a little and let go of your hand. 

"Go on, woman. Go play with Carl. I gotta find Merle and talk to Tara a bit, anyway," he said, giving you a shove in Carl's direction. You grinned at Daryl and took off running, even as Carl jogged your way. 

"Grimes!" you yelled back, and he crashed into you hard when you reached each other. 

"Stop doing shit like that, would you?" he muttered, holding on briefly before shoving you away to glare out from under his dad's hat. 

"Me?" you protested. "What about you? Last I saw you, you'd just gotten your ass saved by a damn tiger!" 

And that memory sobered you instantly, tears springing into your eyes as you saw Negan standing over Carl and pulling that bat back to swing at his head. You grabbed Carl again and pulled him into another hug, hands shaking. 

"Hey, come on. I'm ok. Are you? We were- and Dad said we couldn't rescue you- but you're here, and Merle wouldn't give me any details-" Carl was babbling a little, words tripping over themselves, and as seemed to be the habit with you right now, your emotions swung again and you started to laugh. 

"Aw, kid! Lord, it's been- Hell. It's been a crazy few years, hasn't it?" you asked with a shake of your head. You tossed an arm over his shoulders and realized suddenly he was as tall as you were now. 

What the fuck? When had that happened? And what did he have in that backpack? 

"Where you headed, kid?" you asked suspiciously, and he wouldn't meet your eyes. 

"Um. Nowhere?" 

You laughed. "Ok. Sure. Aren't you supposed to be defending Alexandria right now? Aren't you, like, in charge of all this?" You waved at the buildings around you. 

"Pretty sure that was just until Merle or Dad got back," he said with a shrug. "Hey, you didn't answer my question. Are you ok?" 

"I'm fine, Grimes. Pretty sure you know that already, what with me being right here in front of you and all. Plus, I know Merle would have told you nothing happened to me," you added, flipping down the brim of his hat. "Now, where are you going? If it's not too stupid to let you go at all, maybe I'll come with."

He hesitated again, then sighed. "Ok. I found a guy. While we were getting ready. Dad shot at him and drove him off, but we can't just leave him out there. We have to look out for people. We're giving the Saviors a chance to surrender, so why not let this guy in? I took him some food once already; now I'm going back." 

You stopped for a minute, and Carl turned to look at you. He had that stubborn set to his jaw that said he was going to do this no matter what you said, and hell- Rick and Merle had left him in charge here. You'd been telling him for years that he wasn't a kid anymore. 

And hadn't you just gotten finished telling Daryl that letting the Saviors live was so Carl and Judith would grow up remembering how civilization worked? Here Carl was trying to put that into practice. Who were you to stop him? 

"Ok, kiddo. Let's go," you said with a shrug, and he broke into a huge grin. 

 

 

You left word with the guard on the gate about where you were going and how long you thought it'd be until you came back, because Carl might have been planning on sneaking out but you wanted to survive all this shit, thanks. He huffed as you told him to stop looking at Alexandria as a prison and start using the damn gate. This was a war; shit happened and people were sorry, but dead was still dead. Even if it was undead. 

Whatever, he just needed to be careful out there.

"Yes, mom," he said, emphasizing the mom and rolling his one eye at you. 

"Gawd," you said with a laugh. "You haven't called me that in years." 

"Yeah," he said, flashing you a smile. "You told me not to. Said to think about how my real mom would feel if she heard it. But she's not here anymore. You and Michonne? You're my moms too. And my best friends." 

"Shit, Grimes," you muttered around the sudden lump in your throat. Apparently you'd been spending too much time with your somewhat emotionally constipated Dixons, because instead of saying something sweet back, you bumped Carl's shoulder with your own and cracked an extremely bad joke about having so many parents and he was still managing to sneak out. 

That lead to a laughing discussion about all the times Carl had not stayed put like Lori had told him too, some before you'd even joined the group. He had you wheezing as you walked, until finally you reached the gas station. 

"This is it," he said, and you'd sobered up and pulled your knife. He glared at you, but you gestured to the abandoned cars all around. 

"Look, kid, I trust your judgement about this guy, ok? But we've had some history with walker minefields like this, right? Just get your knife ready and keep an eye out." 

He nodded and the two of you began weaving your way through the cars. He reached the spot where he'd left food and water, smiled when he saw that it was gone, and pointed to the tracks leading into the trees. You nodded and gestured him on ahead of you. 

"This is your show, kid. Take the lead," you told him, flipping the brim of his hat again. 

 

 

There was a plastic bag tied to a tree, with sharpened sticks below it. It was a basic walker trap, one you'd set a few times yourself, and it'd gotten one of the undead bastards already. You tapped Carl's shoulder and he nodded without looking at you, and the two of you slowed your advanced even more. He held up a hand as the figure came into view, glancing at you and nodding again. 

That was the guy. 

The guy came in behind the impaled zombie and struck cleanly through the base of the neck. You nodded, appreciating the competent movement. 

"Hey," Carl called. He held up his hands, holding the Ziplock baggie that had another bottle of water and something he'd packed from the pantry. You didn't put up your hands or put away your knife, and neither did the guy, who'd snapped to attention when Carl'd called his name. 

"It was my dad. They were warning shots above your head. He wasn't shooting at you," Carl continued, stepping forward cautiously. 

You followed, staying at his side and alert but non threatening. The guy stepped out from around the walker, clearly listening. He was young, and wary, but he was interested. 

"I'm Carl, this is YN," Carl said, gesturing to you. 

The guy glanced between you, and finally gestured to himself. "Siddiq." 

You nodded once to him as Carl held up the bag. 

"Food and water?" he offered, and the guy tilted his head slightly. 

"Why?" 

"I guess you- you were talking about something your mom said, about helping people. And my mom told me that you gotta do what's right. And it's hard to know what that is sometimes, but sometimes it's not," he said, and tossed the bag toward the guy. 

The guy eyed it for a second, but then he dove for it like- well, like a dying man who'd been offered food and water. 

"When did Lori ever say anything like that?" you muttered under your breath to Carl. 

He shot you an amused glance. "I was talking about you, dumbass," he muttered back. 

Oh. God, that was sweet.

Wait. What? When the hell did you ever say anything like that? 

On the ground, Siddiq had ripped the bag open and chugged the water. Now he looked up at the two of you, and whispered his thanks. 

"Glad I found you," Carl said with a pleased smile, and the man's eyes were wide. 

"You were looking for me?" 

"Yeah," Carl said, shrugging. You were content to sit back and watch him work, judging the guy to not be a threat. Besides, Carl was the future. Finding people, trusting people- it was all going to be in his hands one day. 

"We have a community," he continued, and then your heart swelled at his next words. "I'm going to ask you a few questions. I need you to answer honestly, ok?" 

The guy glanced between you and you smiled at him, tilting your head toward Carl. Siddiq gave a slow nod, and Carl took a few steps forward. 

"How many walkers have you killed? I know it's hard to keep track-" 

"Two hundred and thirty seven," he interrupted Carl instantly. 

Whoa. What? That was precise. You couldn't have answered that question at any point in this post-apocalyptic nightmare , and here he was rattling a number off the bat. 

"Really?" Carl asked, and you could hear the slight smile in his voice. The guy looked back at the walker on the sticks and shrugged. 

"Give or take a couple," he muttered. 

"How many people have you killed?" Carl asked, and you privately considered what your answer to that would be. Truth was, you had no idea anymore, but it was probably pushing triple digits as well. That should have terrified you, but- the real test was the answer to why, and you knew that one. 

"One," Siddiq said, and you heard the pain in his voice.

"Why?" Carl asked, nodding. 

"The dead tried to kill him, but they didn't." 

Carl glanced at you and you gave a faint nod. "You're making walker traps. Is that how you killed so many?" 

"It's only part of it," Siddiq said slowly. "My mom thought- or hoped- that killing them would... free their souls. You know? Maybe- maybe she was right." He gestured toward the walker, looking at the two of you like you would think he was crazy. 

You did, but you thought everyone who'd survived this long had to be a little crazy. Just look at you. 

"Doesn't that just make things harder for you to survive?" Carl asked, clearly intrigued by this guy. 

"I- I don't know. But you gotta honor your parents, right?" He asked, looking surprised, like he'd never considered the impact his actions might have on his survival. He reminded you, suddenly and irrevocably, of Morgan. But, you know, saner. 

"If I was honoring my dad, we wouldn't be talking right now," Carl said with a grin in your direction. You snorted and shook your head at him with a grin. That was fair enough. Rick obviously hadn't wanted anything to do with Monk 2.0. 

Ok, it was far from your best nickname. You'd try a little harder, as you got to know him. Or you'd just call him by his name. Whatever. 

"And I definitely wouldn't bring you back to our community," Carl added, and the hope that popped into the guy's face broke your heart. 

 

 

You let Carl lead the way, hanging back just a bit to watch your backs. Carl and Siddiq spoke a little, but he was obviously not used to people. He'd clearly been on his own for awhile, and Carl was a good judge of people. He knew the guy was going to have enough of a shock when he got into Alexandria. 

You whistled once, lowly, and Carl looked over at you. Siddiq turned too, and you jerked your head in the direction of the walkers you'd spotted. Carl moved to your side and took a look. 

"Damn shame about the deer," you breathed, and Siddiq looked at you like he was surprised to hear you speak. You grinned at him and shrugged. "Carl's show, man," you said simply. 

"Ok," Carl murmured. "There's only three of them. For your mom," he said to Siddiq. 

It was only three, you agreed, and you hung back to let the kid and the guy have their moment. Carl took the first one easily, and Siddiq got his as well. But of course, four more came from one direction and three more came from the other- one with a sharpened stick impaled through it, so Siddiq must have had another trap nearby. 

"I just showered!" you yelled to Carl in frustration as you dove into the fray. 

You heard his laugh and then his sudden cry of 'shit' as you whirled from your first one to your second, and you glanced over to see him flat on his back on the body of the deer, holding a walker at bay with both arms and with two more converging on him. 

"Grimes!" you yelled, panic flooding your body and fueling your feet. You shoved the walker near you back, not even trying to kill it in your need to get to Carl, and launched yourself, bowling the undead fucker he was holding at bay over with a tackle that sent you falling perilously close to its snapping teeth. 

Like, he got a mouthful of Daryl's shirt on your shoulder as you rolled. 

"Son of a bitch!" you shouted, grabbing at the asshole's rotting hair and dragging it away from you as it tried to go in for another bite. Your other arm- the one with the knife in it, go figure- was pinned down under the rotter at an awkward angle, and for a second you were pretty sure you were done for. Then you shifted enough to bend your elbow and sent your entire arm punching up through the walker's middle, twisting as you did so your hand came up just right to bring your knife in reach, blade up. 

Now for the tricky part. You let go of the rotter's hair, and as it pitched its head forward, you snatched the knife from the hand sticking though him; straightened your arm out completely so you could keep his teeth just barely off your neck; and stabbed downward through the top of the skull. 

"Shit, shit, shit, shit," you were muttering, honestly not certain if you'd been bitten or not as you finally, finally managed to scramble to your feet. 

Carl was still on his back, but he had his gun in his hand and two walkers down half on top of him as well. He was shoving them away as you staggered over to him, trying to shake the worst of the rotten-walker-insides off your arm. 

Yeah, there was no help for it; you were going to need a shower. Again. 

Who the hell could you pay to handle the Dixon's laundry now that Carol wasn't doing it? Because you guys were going to run out of clothes and towels real fast at this rate.

Carl's expression was furious as you grabbed his hand and hauled him to his feet. "What the hell, YN? Are you ok? Did it get you?" Carl asked desperately, grabbing at Daryl's shirt where the walker's sharp, broken teeth had punctured the already-worn fabric and ripped at it. 

"I- don't know," you answered honestly, and Carl was muttering about damn Dixons as he yanked Daryl's flannel shirt off your shoulder and shoved at your tank top's strap so he could take a look. 

Apparently you weren't bit, because he let go of your shirt, fingers going limp against your shoulder, and then shoved you, hard enough for you to actually stagger back a step. 

"Why won't you just be careful?" he shouted wildly.

"What the hell, Grimes?" you snapped, and he was glaring at you. You glared back until you noticed how pale he was and how glassy his eye looked. 

Shit. 

"Kid? What about you?" you asked slowly, sick fear churning in your stomach as you got a look at all the blood covering him. 

Please be from the deer, please be from the deer, please be from the deer-

"I-" Carl looked down at himself and shook his head, looking back up at you with that still-wild expression, and you thought your heart was going to stop completely. "I shot them." 

"Yeah, Grimes, I know. But did you get bitten?" you asked again, trying to keep your voice soft even though you wanted to scream at him. 

He didn't answer.


	67. Close Calls and Reckless Behavior

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> brief potentially offensive language, thanks Dixons

"Damn it, Carl!" you growled, grabbing at him. You yanked on the blood-covered plaid shirt, trying to pull it off of him, and he finally seemed to snap back. He shook his head again, and grabbed at your shaking hands.

"Troublemaker. Settle down. I'm sorry, ok? It was close. Too close, for both of us. But I'm fine," he said, and you narrowed your eyes at him. 

"Yeah? Prove it," you snapped, so not in the mood for messing around. "Shirt off, kid. I haven't seen you look like that since your mom died; I'm gonna need to check you over myself." 

He laughed. "Overprotective much?" he teased, and you crossed your arms and glared. 

"Pull 'er up or I will, Carl. I'm not kidding," you told him bluntly, and he sighed dramatically but stripped off the plaid shirt. Then he hiked up his t shirt and turned in a slow circle. "Shoulders?" you asked, and he gave you a long-suffering look but pulled the shirt away from his shoulders one at a time.

You started to breathe more freely, the elephant sitting on your chest finally deciding to get up and go bother someone else for while. When he was facing you again, you ran shaking hands over your head, not caring how much gunk you were smearing into your hair. Hell, you needed a shower again already. 

Who the fuck were you kidding? You needed a shot of Merle's most potent, pure-alcohol moonshine piss, stat. Hell, make that two. Or three. Yeah, three would be enough. 

"Don't do that to me, kid," you muttered, voice cracking as you reached out and yanked him close. "Too close, Grimes. Too damn close."

"Me?" he muttered into your shoulder, and you realized he was holding onto fistfuls of your shirt, his chin on your shoulder, a light shiver running through him. "What about you? You have a hole in your shirt from its teeth. Don't think I won't tell Daryl what happened, either," he warned. 

You tried to laugh, but your throat was too tight and finally the tears spilled over from your eyes. "You tell Dixon, I'll tell your dad," you managed to choke out through the boulder you were being strangled by. Your shaking hand clenched against Carl's back as you tried to calm the hell down, sternly addressing your nervous system, but it wasn't doing any good. 

You'd come way too damn close to losing this kid, and your brain was not prepared to forget it yet.

Carl held on for a long stretch before the new guy- who you'd completely forgotten about in your mania- spoke up. 

"You could have run," he said, sounding completely confused. 

Carl pulled back, and you dashed the back of your hand over your eyes. The one with the knife in it, not the one you'd punched straight through a walker with. You had a little sense after all; you didn't want zombie innards all up in your eyeballs. 

"I'm responsible for you now," Carl told Siddiq sternly. "That's how it works." 

"I don't wanna make any trouble," he replied, in the tones of someone who had caused trouble before and gotten his heart broken for it. "You both could have..." he trailed off, and you stepped forward. 

"Hey, man," you told him with a shrug and a nonchalance you most certainly were the fuck not feeling. "We almost die every day. There's worse ways to go than trying to help someone. Come on, you're part of this group now." 

You brushed past him and started toward home again, trying to stop the shaking of your hands and stop seeing Carl with three damn walkers converging on him all at once. It wasn't working, but you were trying. 

"What she said," Carl's voice came from behind you, and heard him take a few running steps to catch up. When he was walking at your side, he slid his arm around your shoulders this time. 

You fucking let him, because you needed it. 

 

 

You got back and Daryl rolled open the gate, glaring at all three of you. 

"What the hell, woman?" he snapped. "Why ya covered in blood? Who the fuck is this?" he added, tossing a hand toward Siddiq. 

"That's Daryl," you heard Carl say in a low voice to Siddiq. "He and YN are married. He's got an older brother, too, Merle. Three of them are the Dixons." 

"Hey, honey, I'm home," you said cheerfully, kissing Daryl soundly on the mouth as he started to say something else. The walk home had calmed you down, but you most definitely didn't want to fight with Daryl over close calls and reckless behavior. Not yet, anyway. "We're fine; promise. Had a bit of a close call, but we got it done. That's Siddiq. He's answered the questions and he's going to stay with us."

You grabbed Daryl's hand and held his gaze as his face worked through a wide variety of emotions. Finally it settled on 'thunderously suspicious'. 

"No, Dixon. He's good. Promise. Trust us," you told him grimly.

He glared out at Siddiq, who ducked his head and swallowed hard. 

"I- they helped me. I can- I can go, if my presence is a problem," he said, starting to turn, and you sighed. 

"Seriously, Dixon? Siddiq, man, you're not going anywhere. Come on in. Carl, want to put him up for now? I'd offer our place, but the boys have left it a bit of a mess," you said with a pointed look at Daryl. 

"Sure," Carl said easily. "Come on, let's get you settle in. YN, go take another shower. Wash your hair," he added with a grin.

"Yeah? You get one too. You should see your back!" you called after him as the two of them walked away. Then you turned to face the music, grabbing the gate and hauling it closed with Daryl.

"Woman," was all he said, and you batted your eyelashes at him and smiled. When that did nothing, you sighed and got serious. 

"Don't 'woman' me, Dixon. We're doing everything we're doing to help people. It was Carl's call. He trusted his gut, and the guy's decent. He deserves a chance like we all do," you said with a shrug. 

He glared for a minute longer, but eventually his face softened. He apparently wanted to fight about as much as you did; which was not at all. "Whatever. How close a call was it?" 

You hesitated, not really sure you wanted to answer that. Daryl's eyes narrowed at you. 

"Ya got a hole in your shirt and blood all over ya. Don't lie," he snapped, and you sighed again. 

"Fine. It was- it was not good. Very much not good," you admitted. "Me and the kid came within a few inches of being biter bait. But Dixon-" you took a rapid step forward and grabbed his hand as he started to stalk off toward where Carl and Siddiq had gone. "It wasn't Siddiq's fault. Just pure dumb bad luck, and we're both fine. Promise." 

He glared up the road as you wound your arms around him from behind, pressing a kiss into his shoulder. Finally, his hands came down to your arms and he relaxed. 

"Ya done with that shit now?" he muttered. 

"What?" you asked, laying your cheek against his back like you did when you rode with him. 

"Nearly gettin' killed." 

You laughed. "Is Negan dead?"

It was supposed to be a joke- mostly- but he stiffened beneath you. "Will be soon." 

"Then I'm probably not done, am I?" You mumbled, knowing it was true. 

"Damn it, woman." 

 

 

He shipped you back to the house and you dove under the water again, this shower significantly less enjoyable than the last one. When you came downstairs and wandered to the kitchen, looking for something to eat, you found Merle there, packing your canned goods and bottled water into a backpack. 

"Something wrong?" you asked, leaning against the bar. 

"Gettin' ready for the next step, little sister," he drawled over his shoulder to you, and you narrowed your eyes at his tone. 

"What is it, Merle?" you demanded, tone uncompromising. He sighed. 

"Rick ain't back yet, darlin'. Thinkin' we're gonna have to go after 'im, maybe. Just wanna leave this place prepared if we do," he finally answered, turning to look at you.

Your glare intensified. "We? You ain't goin' anywhere." 

"The hell I ain't," he shot back, clearly already prepared for this battle. "It's my damn plan, girlie. You ain't gonna keep ol' Merle from seein' it through." 

"Merle. Come on," you snapped. "You have a broken arm! You can't work a rifle! How many times are we going to have this conversation?" 

"He took a swing at you!" Merle roared at full volume, going straight to maximum out of nowhere. "He tried to kill ya with that damn bat! He beat the shit out of Glenn and Abraham, took my baby brother and threw 'im in a cell, let his people beat the shit out of him and torture him! I will not stand by while everyone else takes a peace outta that bastard!"

You stepped right up into his face, utterly unafraid even as Merle yelled. His face was red and his eyes would have scared the ever loving shit out of you if it had been anyone else but Merle. But it was Merle, and you knew him too damn well to think you were in danger just because he was screaming. You stood toe to toe with him, and you knew by the way he was breathing hard and staring deliberately at the wall above your head, holding himself perfectly still, that he was expecting you to yell back. He did that when he was controlling himself; controlling his temper or the fear he didn't like admitting he had. This time, you knew it was fear. You read it in the lines of his jaw, the tightness around his eyes. 

He was scared for all of you, and angry that he was hurt and therefore unable to watch your backs. 

So you did the opposite of what he expected. Instead of yelling back all the reasons he already knew to prove he should stay, you offered comfort for the fear. You'd been the person watching as those you loved ran into danger and you were too hurt to do anything about it. You ached for him, knowing how you'd have been in his place, and that he was only in this position because of you. 

Instead of yelling, you framed his face in your hands and kissed him softly on the lips.

"Seriously? Ya movin' in on my girl again?" Daryl drawled from behind you, but both of you heard the amusement in his voice. You wondered when he'd come in, your eyes still on Merle, and you ignored him. He wasn't mad; wasn't accusing you of anything. Hell, from the way Merle glanced his way and his scowl deepened, he was probably giving Merle the same kind of look you were. The 'don't be stupid; we love you' look.

"You'd take on the world for us, Merle Dixon, and we know it. I know it. But you cannot do this. You just can't. You're in this shape because of me, and I can't- I can't risk you being hurt worse just to look out for me. You have to trust us to take care of it- and you- for once," you whispered to him. He started to shake his head, not meeting your eyes, but you wouldn't let him. You held his face still with your hands on his cheeks, and reluctantly he looked at you. 

"You've saved my ass so many times, Merle. Just- sit this one out. Help Carl defend home. Heal, you stubborn dick," you added, and Merle snorted a laugh. 

"I ain't the defend the home fire type, girlie," he said.

You grinned at him. "I know." 

"I ain't there to watch ya back, you'll have to actually use that damn brain of yours for more than a concrete battering ram." 

"I don't do it on purpose!" you complained, throwing your hands up in disgust. This time both he and Daryl laughed at you.

"Naw, ya don't," Daryl agreed. "Still do it, though." 

"Oughta find ya one of them special ed helmets," Merle drawled, and you huffed.

"Come on, you guys! That's insensitive, for one, and I'm not that bad about it!" 

"Yeah ya are," they said together, and you rolled your eyes as they laughed. 

 

 

The sun was setting as everyone was finishing loading the cars. If Rick wasn't back by the morning, you'd be going to the garbage yard before you met up with him and the rest at the rendezvous. Merle was there with you and Daryl, and so were Carl and Siddiq. Your Dixon boys eyed the guy suspiciously, but they didn't do more than grunt in his direction as Carl introduced him around. 

Merle was going over every step of the final stage with you in detail, since he had agreed to stay behind with Carl. You were, somehow, appointed to take his place as mission control and army general, despite your many and varied protests that you wanted and were qualified to do no such thing. Tara had laughed as you were winding up a long list of reasons why you shouldn't- each sounding weaker than the last, even to your own ears- and the sound had been so rare since Denise died that you'd whipped toward her, eyes wide.

She shook her head at you, smiling. "They're right. You're doing it. You've been in charge since forever. Even Rick knows it. Here," she added, and pulled the compound bow off her back, the one she'd gotten after Terminus. She held it out to you. "Take it. You're better with it than I am." 

You took it slowly, not sure if you wanted one in your hands again. Your bow, your stolen one from all the way back when life wasn't death and undead and how-the-fuck-do-we-survive, was back somewhere in the Sanctuary, with Negan. As soon as you held this one in your hands, you could feel yourself starting to smile. 

Yeah, that felt right. 

 

 

Full dark fell, and you knew you should be heading in to get some sleep. Dawn would come early, after all. But something was holding you back, keeping you out there. 

Rick would be back any second, you told yourself. And then you'd be ready for phase three of the plan. 

Only problem was, step three was where shit always, always went wrong. 

"Hey. What are you doing out here still?" Carl asked as he wandered up to you. "You should be asleep." 

"So should you, Grimes," you shot back. "I don't know what I'm doing. I'm waiting. For something." 

Carl regarded the gate like you did, hands hooked over the sheaths strapped to his legs. "Waiting for what?" 

"Hell if I know," you answered with a shrug. "Probably just still jacked from this afternoon. Adrenaline's been keeping me running for months, it feels like. You sure you're ok?" you asked him, suddenly anxious all over again. You saw those snapping walker jaws awfully close to him as he struggled with one and the other two closed in.

He shook his head with a smirk. "Yes, mom. I'm sure. Stop worrying about me, would you?" 

"Never, kid," you muttered, slinging an arm around his shoulders. "Siddiq ok?" 

"Yeah. Nervous, but he's nice. He's a doctor. Well, he was a medical student anyway." 

"No shit?" you asked, pleasantly surprised. "Good call. Seriously." 

"I didn't want to help him because he might be useful," Carl said with a scowl, and you were turning to reply when it happened. 

Thud. Thud. Thud. 

Aw, hell, there went step three.


	68. It's Step Three All Right

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

"You may be wondering why the hell your lookouts didn't sound the alarm." 

Oh, fucking hell. Step three, damn it; step three.

You whirled wide eyes to Carl, who gave you a slightly freaked out look back. But then he nodded hard once, his face setting into controlled determination, and walked backward toward the vehicles loaded down to depart the next day. 

Ok then. Guess he knew what he was doing. You made the split second decision to follow his lead- after all, he was the one left in charge of this place- and listened to Negan making a speech with half an ear as Carl grabbed a bag and started loading it down with smoke bombs and flash-bangs. 

"See, we are polite. I mean, I don't know when they're going to wake up from that kinda shot, but they should wake up. So let's just cut through the cow shit- you lose. It's over. So you're gonna line up in front of your little houses, and you're gonna work up some apologies, and then the person with the lamest one is gonna get killed." 

"Yeah, doubt that," Carl muttered under his breath as he filled his bag, and you wondered when he'd gotten to be as much of a sarcastic little shit as you were. You snatched two of the rifles from the truck, added a second handgun to your arsenal, and waited for instructions. 

"Then I kill Rick right in front of everybody, and we move on. You have three- count 'em, three- minutes to open this gate, or we start bombing the shit out of you!” 

Ok, that you believed. You looked up as Carl started moving and realized that people were pouring out of their houses and assembling rapidly nearby, backpacks on their shoulders and faces terrified but calm. 

“Plan, kid?” you asked under your breath as Daryl and Merle jogged up together and converged with the other members of your little family and the two of you.

“They got out,” Merle observed, and Carl nodded. 

“Come on,” he said simply, and took off toward the gathered knot of people while Negan started his damn whistling. 

 

 

Daryl ran a hand over your arm as your family huddled up around Carl. 

“Follow the plan. You need to make it look like we’re escaping out back. Get to the woods, halfway to the quarry, and cut the lights. Get enough of a lead on them, hit them, and get away on foot. You know where we’ll be. Just have to get the guns, get everyone else here, and we’ll meet you there,” Carl directed, and people around you were nodding. 

You looked between them and raised your eyebrows. “Hey, since I was hanging out with that asshole out there when you guys obviously formed this plan, someone want to tell me what the hell is going on?” you snapped. 

“Two minutes! Dig deep people! I want these apologies to be memorable. Bonus points for creativity. Work up a poem, sing a song. I love that shit!” 

“Will you shut up?” you yelled toward Negan, even though he couldn’t hear you. 

Merle snorted, but everyone otherwise ignored you.

“There’s going to be people in the infirmary. They’re going to need your help,” Carl said, nodding at Tobin and Scott, who stood a pace outside the circle of your group. 

“We got guns, we can fight them,” Tara said, but Daryl interrupted her.

“Naw. Not right now. Carl’s right. Got people to get out.”

“We can’t just let them have this place!” It was Michonne who objected now, and Carl rounded on her, irritation in his voice. 

“We can. All you need to do is survive tonight. This is my show; this is my plan; and you’re going to do it. You’re all going to do it!” he snapped, meeting everyone’s eyes one by one. He wasn't asking, he was ordering, in true Ain't A Democracy Anymore Grimes Family fashion. 

Merle was straight-up grinning, like Carl was his protege and he was watching him do particularly well in a test. “Ya heard the man!” 

“Merle, I need you getting people down there,” Carl said, turning to him seriously. “I know you want to be part of the ambush, but you can’t work one of the big guns. You can still kick ass up close if you need to, though. Keep them safe.”  
And to your immense surprise, Merle nodded and took off with exactly zero arguments. You wanted to learn that trick from Carl, real soon. Now was not the time, however, and you were about ready for someone to answer some questions, damn it!

“Down where, kid?” you asked, bewildered and tired of it, and Carl turned a distressing version of Merle's shit-eating grin on you. 

“Oh, you’re gonna love this, Troublemaker,” he said. 

 

 

“One minute!” Negan’s voice came from behind the gates as you ran through Alexandria and checked for stragglers. 

Carl had been right. You had loved it- every bit of it- except the part he wanted you to play and the part where he was going to go talk to Negan alone. Of course, you couldn’t argue with the first thing he asked you to do. Making sure everyone made it down was damn important, and you were doing it. 

It was also easy, since this had been discussed in detail and practiced until your people moved like a well-oiled machine. Gear had been stashed by doors, shoes had been kept near beds, and as soon as Negan’s voice started blasting, people had hopped to and carried out. So basically you were just running through empty streets seeing doors standing wide open.

Which was fine with you, since it meant you’d be able to get back to the gate in a hurry. 

You were planning on ignoring the second half of Carl’s instructions. 

 

 

“Okeydokie. Brought this on yourself, Rick. See, I was willing to work with you. All you had to do was follow a few very simple rules. Now? Well, now I see that you got to go! Scorched earth, you dick!” 

You made your way along the wall, hugging the shadows and sneaking in under the platform Carl stood on. He didn’t know you were there, and that was fine with you. 

“He’s not home,” Carl said mildly, and despite the heart-stopping adrenaline of the kid being up there alone and Negan talking shit about blowing the place up (what happened to people are a resource?), you were grinning. 

Thing was, there was no way in hell you were going to retreat down into the sewers to hide with everyone else while your kid was up here. Nope. Just nope. 

Daryl and Merle had waited until Carl’s back was turned and given you identical looks of disbelief when you’d agreed to Carl’s instructions without argument. You’d widened your eyes back at them and blinked innocently, and they’d glanced at each other and shaken their heads. Daryl’d held your eyes a little longer as Merle patted your shoulder and got on with his job. 

“Be careful, woman,” he’d whispered, kissing you swiftly. 

“You too, Dixon,” you’d said back, and then you’d gone your separate ways. 

 

 

“Oh-ho-holy shit!” Negan’s voice came, startled, on the end of Carl's words. “Everybody hold your fire; it’s Carl. Look at you. Answering the door like a big boy. I am so proud. Daddy’s not home, huh?”

God, would this dick ever shut the hell up? You were so damn tired of him running his mouth. 

“Well, I guess he’s gonna get back to a big old smokey surprise.” 

“There’s families in here. Kids. My little sister,” Carl said calmly. 

“Well, that shit just breaks my heart,” Negan growled back. “There’s kids at the Sanctuary. You must’ve seen ‘em. Even had a little baby at one of the outpost. Wonder what happened to her?” 

There was a long pause, you holding your breath and making sure you were in a good position for what you knew was coming next. Carl was a distraction, and then his plan was to make his way into the sewer and meet everyone. Once the Saviors were gone, the Alexandrians would make their way to Hilltop- though you were pretty sure if this was going down here, the Hilltop had its own problems. So you were hiding here to ambush the Saviors when they inevitably crashed the gates. 

Not at all what Carl wanted, but hey. Grimes boys could only order you around so much before you kind of did what you wanted despite their instructions. 

“None of this shit’s fair, kid,” Negan continued, and he wasn’t using whatever speaker system he had now. 

Carl was a good choice for this, you knew. Negan respected the hell out of the kid and had talked- extensively, nauseatingly- about how much he wanted to train Carl up to be one of his people. You’d ignored him as best you could, knowing Carl had too big a heart to go along with Negan’s shit. 

“Hell, you know that. You had to kill your own mom. That is screwed up. Ergo, we need someone in charge who is willing to do whatever it takes to make sure that shit don’t happen. Oh. Wait- that’s me!” 

Carl finally spoke again. “Bad stuff does happen, but we can figure this out. We can stop this.” 

“Oh, now you want to talk? Your dad and my wife- before she punched me in the jaw and ran off with my metal-armed former man- had it that I died, no matter what. Gave my people a choice. Not me. Now we’re going to need a new understanding. Apologies, punish-” 

“Kill me!” 

Uh. Wait. What? 

No. 

Carl, what the hell are you doing? 

There was a long pause, from Negan and from you, though you had to abort a movement forward you hadn't commanded your body to make. You had heard the seriousness in Carl’s tone. He meant it, and oh boy were you pissed as hell. You were going to have one long-ass talk with that kid when these assholes had left. 

He had yelled at you for not staying safe? Here he was literally offering himself as a sacrifice to Negan, and he’d been mad at you over tackling one damn walker? 

“What did you say?” Negan finally said, and Carl’s reply was soft and sincere. 

“If you have to kill someone, if there has to be punishment, then kill me. I’m serious,” he added, utterly unnecessarily. 

“You wanna die?”

Yeah, Grimes, you were more than a little interested in the answer to that one yourself. 

“No, I don’t. But I will. It’s gonna happen. And i- if me dying could stop this- if it can make things different- for us, for you, for all those other kids- it’d be worth it.” 

Shit. Shit, Carl Grimes, that was some Dixon-level self sacrifice he had going on. Good of the many and all that shit. It was uncomfortably close to things you’d said before; that you’d screamed at Daryl or Rick or Merle or whoever else in times of trouble as you threw yourself in front of whatever bullet needed to be eaten for your people that day. 

God, you were proud. Pissed- terrified- but proud. 

“I mean, was this the plan? Was it supposed to be this way? Is this who you wanted to be?” Carl asked Negan seriously, and hell. That might have a shot at working. He might be able to end all this right now, with one appeal to Negan's ideology. 

 

 

You heard the roar of the garbage truck engines and knew Daryl and the others were off. That meant everyone else had made it into the sewers, and as Negan started screaming about him and Carl having a moment, Carl flung himself down the ladder. 

“Bombs away!” Negan roared, and shit started blowing up in Alexandria.

It hurt; you wouldn’t even pretend it didn’t. This was the second home you’d made that you’d seen- quite literally- go up in smoke. 

This time it was easier, knowing that you would win. The people were the heart of Alexandria-your little family and the others you’d taken under your wing- and Carl had already saved them. Now you were going to save Carl’s self-sacrificial ass. 

He fell down the last bit of the ladder and landed on his back, a cry of pain startled out before he cut it off abruptly and started to climb to his feet. You’d been right under that ladder as he fell, though, and knew he’d done so because his foot caught and his ankle twisted. 

You abandoned your plans for Savior-convoy-gate-busting ambush and stepped forward to his side instead, scooping up his hat as you came. You held out a hand pull him up, grinning at him where he was halfway there, hopping a little as he tried to keep weight off his leg. He jerked when you materialized at his side and glared at you, even as you wrapped an arm around him and started hauling him away, settling his hat firmly on his head for him. 

He reached into his bag and pulled out one of his smoke grenades, pulling the pin and tossing it behind the two of you as he limped along. 

“You’re supposed to be gone!” he snapped at you, throwing his arm along your shoulders and leaning into you so you could move a little faster, explosions still going off all around. 

“Yeah?” you muttered to him. “Well, good thing for you I don’t follow orders well. What the hell were you thinking, Grimes? Offering to die?” 

“Just trying to distract him,” he muttered, and you laughed humorlessly as the two of you ducked behind a house and Carl stopped to lean against it and breathe for a minute, pain all over his face. 

“Sure. Whatever,” you snarled, bending down to take a look at his leg. You could argue about that later.

Fuck, if that ankle wasn’t broken, it was damn close. 

“We’ll fight about it later, kid. Pretty sure you snapped this thing,” you continued grimly, and he nodded. 

“I know. Can’t go yet, though,” he groaned. 

For shit’s sake. “Why the hell not?” you snapped. 

“Gotta keep them busy. Little longer,” he said through gritted teeth. 

Oh the complete and utter bullshit. There was no way you were letting this kid run around this fire-ridden explosion minefield when he could barely walk, much less cover any actual ground. But you knew that head tilt, that jaw clench, that ‘try-me-I-dare-you’ look. 

“This is the problem with having a kid who’s just like you,” you complained to the air as you rapidly hunted for a plan that you could both agree on. Carl snorted, then gasped a little as he tried to stand up.

“Fuck it, Grimes,” you snapped. “There’s no way you can run around here on that ankle and you know it. What else did you want to accomplish? They’re coming in already. The convoy got out the back, so that’ll work. Everyone’s out of the town. Alexandria’s going to burn, and we need to get the fuck out of here so we don’t burn with it!” 

He hesitated, and for one long moment you considered knocking him out and just carrying him down to the sewers. It might be easier and would certainly be faster. 

Then he nodded, slowly, and you sighed in relief. 

“Here, give me that bag. You focus on walking, I’ll drop these as we go. Heading toward the east grate, right?” you said, draping Carl’s bag over your own shoulder and wrapping your arm around his waist again. He leaned in and you moved out slowly as you heard the gates crash under the force of the Savior’s trucks. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck; time to move. 

“Here we go,” Carl grunted through clenched teeth.


	69. While Rome Burns, Nero Fiddles- Or Negan Makes Spaghetti

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence  
> brief threat of rape/non con

You used the smoke bombs three times on the way over, and you still had to leave Carl leaning against a building while your heart threatened to explode in fear. You slipped into the smoke until you closed on the three Saviors bombing houses one by one, and then you were moving. 

One’s throat was slit and he went down soundlessly before the other two noticed. The second’s finger was on the trigger as you thrust your knife into the base of his neck, and he fired randomly even as he died. That got the attention of the third, who squared off with you with a grin. 

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the boss’ wife,” he said with a smirk. “We’re under orders not to kill you or the kid. So you’re going to have to come with me.” 

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” you muttered, circling him slowly as he did you. “And I’m not his wife, asshole.” 

“He doesn’t seem to agree with that.” 

You shrugged, eyes not leaving him. “He doesn’t get a say in it. I’m already married.” 

“Not for long. We’ll find those Dixon brothers. Boss gave us permission to do whatever we want to them- especially the prisoner,” the asshole said with a leer, making his meaning clear as he grabbed at his dick and winked at you. 

Seriously? You knew Negan better than that. Maybe he was going ‘scorched earth’ now, but he’d had the chance to force you into doing literally anything he asked, and the worst he’d done was ask for a back rub. No way in hell he’d condone raping a prisoner. 

You could hate the guy- and did- and actively be planning his extremely brutal death, but you knew where his limits were. 

You opened your mouth to make some kind of retort and the guy’s face froze, mouth opening and closing soundlessly as he slumped forward. Your eyebrow shot up as he tumbled to the ground. Carl stood behind him, knife bloody and face pale. 

“Hey, Grimes. I had that,” you said with a casual gesture at the Savior on the ground. He shrugged and hobbled over to you, face a mask of pain with every motion. 

“Got tired of waiting,” he said simply, and you grabbed his arm and pulled him into your side again. 

“Alright, whatever. Almost there,” you encouraged, and the two of you kept going. 

 

 

You made it the rest of the way without incident, and you lowered Carl until he was sitting. He was shaking and sweaty and so very pale, and you knew he was in a shit ton of pain. You hauled the grate back with a grunt, enough for the two of you to slip through. 

Well. Maybe not the two of you. 

Carl slid forward and you grabbed him under the arms, slowly helping to lower him down as much as you could. You heard his hissed breath as he hit the ground and shoved yourself back into a crouch. 

“I’m clear,” he whispered after another second. “Come on.” 

“Sorry, kid,” you muttered, and wrestled the grate closed. 

“Damn it!” Carl yelled up to you. “What are you doing?” 

“Your dad’s probably on his way here. I’m sorry, Grimes. Tell Merle to keep his ass where it is, and I’ll be down soon,” you called. 

Then you ran- like a coward- before Carl could respond. You didn’t want to hear him try to tell you not to go. 

 

 

It was partly about Rick. 

It was more about Negan. 

It was one hundred percent about you.

You knew the bastard would go to Rick’s house. He’d burn every other building to the ground, but he’d keep Rick’s place standing until he could kill him there. For dramatic effect, you know. 

So that’s where you went, sticking to the shadows and the smoke and clinging to the side of houses. You killed any lone Savior you came across, but if there was more than one you snuck around. You were after Negan; you weren’t about to risk getting yourself captured or killed before you could get to him. 

There were a shit ton of them wandering around, blowing up everyone’s houses, but so far you hadn’t seen any of the leaders but Negan himself. No Dwight, no Simon, no Gavin, no Regina- certainly no Eugene fuckin’ Porter. Made you worry about what was happening to the other communities, and that made you sloppy. You stumbled over a piece of someone’s house as you turned onto your own street, Rick’s street. Sure enough, Rick’s house was still standing, and wonder of wonders, so was yours. Of course, that might have been only because they hadn’t reached it yet, since there were two teams of Saviors heading down each side of the street and lobbing hand grenades or some shit into the houses one at a time.

And they saw you. 

Fucking hell. 

You backpedaled rapidly, ripping out another of Carl’s smoke bombs and yanking the pin, tossing it forward as the air around you filled. You were hidden, but it was a double-edged sword and they were hidden to. 

Of course, they had to worry about things like friendly fire, whereas if you saw movement you could go straight for the kill. 

They made so damn much noise, too. It wasn’t just yelling to each other, though Christ knew there was fuckin’ plenty of that. It was their footfalls, their weapons, their goddamn breathing- they announced themselves before you ever saw them, and so you slipped through the smoke only having to stop to do anything about one. 

He was right on the edge of the cloud and saw you making a break for it, but you slashed forward as you ran and his throat gleamed in the light as Alexandria burned. 

Then you were in the shadows again, and the groups of them were yelling curses and wondering where you’d gone, and you circled to Rick’s house. 

 

 

You went in from the back, climbing up to the second story by a combination of skill, Ninja Jesus shit, and some pure dumb luck. You’d take what you could get, and you slipped in through Carl’s bedroom window. 

Negan was already inside and you knew it, but you hoped you’d beaten Rick in. You didn’t actually know why you were so damn confident that he was going to be there; you just kind of... were. Negan was too, and you had to give it to the asshole, he was pretty damn quiet. 

Not as quiet as you, of course, but you’d had Dixon brothers training. Negan could be forgiven for not knowing you were at the top of the stairs, hiding in the shadows; not knowing when you skipped over the creaky fourth stair from the top and stepped on the very edge of the seventh. He wasn’t a Dixon. He wasn’t an Alexandrian. 

The front door opened as you reached the bottom of the stairs, and you flattened yourself into the darkness. 

 

 

“Carl.” Rick whispered from the front of the house. “Judith.” 

You could forgive him for calling out for Carl. It was, in fact, probably a good idea, given the circumstances, to not sneak up on any of his own merry band of killers. But the baby? What was she going to do, say “Hi daddy, I’m in the kitchen and Negan’s making more spaghetti?” 

Damn it. 

“Michonne?” he continued, and you wanted to move to him, let him know he wasn’t alone. 

But Negan was in here somewhere and you didn’t know where. You were the ace in the hole Rick didn’t even know he had. It was a damn good thing too, because as you slid from one shadow to another, you heard the blow. 

“This shit isn’t funny anymore,” Negan said, and Rick cried out as you heard the harsh click of the bat. 

Your hands wanted to shake, but you held yourself together. Now was the time to be cold. To wait for your moment. 

To end it all, like you and Daryl had talked about; no matter the cost. 

“Don’t make me do this now, Rick,” Negan said, and you moved like liquid darkness to ease closer to the confrontation. You heard things clinking as they hit the floor and wished you could see. “I got plans for you. Cut you up into little bitty pieces, feed you to the dead, and make you watch.” 

Ok, first of all, that was a little too distressingly similar to your favorite Negan-killing fantasy, and that didn’t bode well for your mental state. Second of all, did this asshole ever stop talking? For real. 

There was another cry from Rick, right as the bat thunked into the floor. Negan chuckled. 

“Then, when you’re some sort of screwed-up, creepy stump with a head-” Another thunk, another groan, another slide toward the source of the fight as your heart rate picked up. Rick didn’t sound like he was doing too well. 

“That’s when I’m gonna kill you- in front of everybody. Including your kid and my runaway wife.” 

“Will you shut the hell up?” Rick snarled, and you almost gave yourself away with the laugh that wanted to bubble out. 

God, Cowboy. 

“Nope!” Negan answered cheerfully, and half-screamed before another of those thunks. You flinched with that one. “You know your kid volunteered to die? What kind of a boy you raise, Rick? Got too much of you in him. Needs more of the princess, I think. I’m gonna fix him. ‘Cause I like him. A few years, he’s gonna be one of my top guys!” 

You slid to the door of the dining room in time to see Rick land a solid blow to Negan’s jaw, and you would have cheered. But then the dumbasses just traded punches back and forth for a minute, and seriously? Seriously? 

Ok, fine, you’d stumbled over Rick’s gun and his ax on your way in, and had the ax in your hand. The gun was somewhere on the floor because you’d had to find another shadow before you could snatch it up, but still. He should have known that Negan was going to need more than a fist. 

Use his damn house to his advantage. The man lived here for fuck’s sake; Negan didn’t. 

At that moment Negan shoved him down, breaking the desk with Rick’s falling body, and stood over him with Lucille clutched in his hand. 

“When I am done with you, nobody will ever try to do what you did- not ever again! Not your friends, not your son-- not my super hot runaway wife. She’ll be the queen of my kingdom, and your kid? He’ll be our kid, mine and hers, Ricky-dicky. What do you think-” 

You were about to make your move, make your presence known to save Rick’s bacon when he sprang up and hit Negan hard enough with something in his hand to send the other man flying. Finally. 

Rick snatched up Lucille and you began to think you wouldn’t have to kill Negan after all; Rick would handle that shit for you- and with a serious helping of poetic justice. Then he turned the small end to Negan and bashed downward into his stomach. 

Still a decent blow, but he had his chance. It was right the fuck there, and he didn’t swing for the head with that nasty piece of wire-coated shit? 

Disappointing, Cowboy. 

“Don’t you touch her!” Negan cried, and- 

Well, that was a level of crazy you hadn’t expected, to say the least. He swung at Rick and of course he connected and of course Rick went staggering back into the wall. They squared off and you gathered yourself to jump into the fray. 

Rick dove for something in the floor- you hoped it was his gun- and Negan bowled into him like a linebacker, knocking Rick out the window. It apparently had been his gun Rick was going for, because a shot went off as Negan slammed into him. 

Rick ran as Negan was staggering to his feet, and that was the most sense you thought you’d ever seen Cowboy show. You were still there, though, and this was your chance. 

You made your move as Negan stood looking for Rick out the broken window, and you didn’t hesitate.


	70. Ashes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> cannon typical violence

Alexandria was burning. 

You didn’t know if the flames would ever go out, or if anything would be left but ashes in the end. 

You staggered from Rick’s house, hand slick with blood and mind moving so slowly, slowly, slowly. 

 

 

“Well, hell, princess. I did not expect to find you here,” Negan snarled, face inches from yours where you were pinned to the wall with the edge of Lucille under your chin. The barbs on the wire bit lightly into the skin of your throat and the underside of your chin, but it barely even registered for you right then. 

Everything hurt, every part of your body aching in a way that was more than a little familiar these days, but what worried you was the cold. You were starting to feel cold creeping up from your toes and fingers toward your heart, and that wasn’t a good sign. 

 

 

You needed to get to the sewer. You needed to get to the sewer, but you couldn’t- 

You couldn’t quite- 

Remember where it was? 

 

 

“Did you really think you were going to get the drop on me, darlin’? Me?” He chuckled as he kicked you, right in the side where Rick's wild shot had slammed into you, and fire erupted in your body and behind your eyes. You screamed, long and loud enough to maybe damage your vocal chords, as he knelt over you and grabbed your hair to pull your head up. 

“I wear a leather jacket, I have Lucille, and my nutsack is made of steel, wife of mine. I am not dying until I am damn well good and ready,” he whispered, and you laughed weakly. 

“Still not your wife,” you hissed out at him through the pain. 

 

 

There were walkers. You should have anticipated that, but you weren’t really anticipating much of anything right now, if you were honest. 

Except dying. You were fully anticipating dying. 

In fact, you were a more than a little surprised you weren’t dead already. 

It kind of felt like you might be, but you sent the walker reaching for you staggering with your shoulder and stumbled on away from it. 

 

 

“God damn it, princess. Who the fuck are you?” he roared as you slammed your fist in his face again, knee planted on his chest and adrenaline keeping you in motion.

There was absolutely no reason why you should have been fucking moving at this point; none at all except you had to kill this son of a bitch. Had to. 

He bucked with his hips, throwing you to the floor all too easily in your current state. There you lay, all the air draining out of you as you chuckled weakly, tears of pain and fear sliding down your cheeks as you coughed. He staggered to his feet, reaching for his bleeding throat. 

You’d almost fucking killed him in the window, but he’d sensed you somehow, or that fickle bitch luck had been on his side. Either way, he’d turned, and the swing that should have taken his head at least partway off with Rick’s damn ax had instead only caught him with one corner. 

He was bleeding pretty badly, but nothing he couldn’t get fixed up after he dealt with you. 

You were in far worse shape than he was, but all things considered, you’d been holding your own fairly well. Ok, that was a complete lie.

 

There were more of the dead wandering around now, and that was what saved your life, actually. 

You must have looked like one of them yourself, staggering slow and uneven steps. You were bleeding from the gunshot on your side, bleeding from Lucille's bite on your throat, bleeding from one too many punches to the head. 

Shit, maybe you needed that helmet after all. 

The Saviors were obviously retreating, and they barely spared a glance at just another shambling, bloody monster. 

 

 

“I’m serious, darlin’. Just who-” 

Kick. Your rib snapped like a twig, the same one Merle had broken in another smoke-filled, hazy fight. White static filled your mind as all your body knew was pain, pain, pain- 

“The hell-” 

Hand pulling you up roughly, squeezing around your throat- 

“Are you?” 

Fire in the side of your jaw, fire in your brain, fire in your aching lungs desperate for air; fire everywhere; Alexandria burning, burning, burning-

Air rushed into your lungs and over your battered throat as the hand let go and you were limp like a rag doll; being scooped into someone’s arms. 

You felt him walking, carrying you, and you wouldn’t be taken again. You couldn't be taken again, because you had to protect Dixon, even from himself. He couldn't handle it if you were taken again. 

But you were too weak, too hurt to protest, and the asshole would not. Shut. Up.

“Look here, princess. I am not going to kill you. Not now, not yet, maybe not ever. I like you too damn much, just like I like that little future serial killer too damn much, and besides- keeping the two of you alive will hurt more people in the end than simply killing you would. So do me a favor, and stop making it happen like this. I do not want to pound the shit out of you. Not this way, anyway.” 

You wanted him to stop fucking talking for two damn seconds so you could just die in peace, damn it. But he wouldn’t stop talking. 

“Besides, I have got to find out more about you, princess. Who the hell are you? I knew you were a bad ass, but this? You should not still be breathing, much less taking a piece out of me. I'm goddamn bleeding from the neck! This is a new level of shit, darlin’!” 

That did it. You were so tired of his voice. 

You cracked your eyes open, let your arm fall limp at your side. He was prattling on as he juggled your body with perfect timing- fuck you, luck; you’re a goddamn fickle bitch, but also thanks- and reached for the door. 

Your hand closed on your backup knife, the one you’d stuffed into your boot earlier that day, after the walker incident with Carl. You could have reached your leg to get another knife then, had you had one. 

Now you did. 

 

 

The world was darkening, but you didn’t think it was the fires going out. You were pretty sure it was your eyes dimming, shadows on the edge of your vision painting spiderwebs of black over the real world. 

Alexandria was burning. 

But your people were safe. 

The world rushed up to meet you as you saw the grate. 

 

 

You pulled the knife and thrust with it in one motion, expending every last bit of energy you could muster on this one last shot. You fell from his arms as he staggered back in pain, but you held onto your knife grimly as you fell. 

Something warm was all over your hands as you staggered slowly, painfully, to your feet. 

You stared at him as his mouth moved but nothing came out and he collapsed to his knees. 

“I’m YN,” you snarled at him, chest heaving with the effort of staying fucking upright, on your feet. You stumbled forward two steps, put a blood covered hand to his chest and pushed, He fell back onto the ground, light fading from his eyes as he stared blindly. 

“YN Dixon,” you whispered, tears of pain and rage and body-numbing fear falling from your eyes as you dropped to your knees, straddling his chest, and raised the knife again. 

“I’m no one. Just a damn survivor.”


	71. Don't Follow the Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon what cannon?  
> Cannon typical violence  
> mentions of past rape/non con  
> mentions of past abuse  
> Brief derogatory language toward Muslim faith   
> Brief allusions to self-harm

“Shit!” 

“Is that-?” 

“Yeah.” 

Pause, and you tried to open your eyes, tried to figure out who the voices belonged to. They were so far away. 

“Should we- I don’t know-” 

“Hell, no. It’s hers.” 

 

“Can you please move back, sir? I need room to work.” 

“Better not fuckin’ die on me, woman.” 

You wanted to respond to that one. That voice was important; there were things you needed to tell the person it belonged to. 

 

 

“How the goddamn hell should I know, baby brother? Didn’t know she was out there ‘till Rick and Michonne brought her in!” 

Son of a bitch, you were too tried and everything fucking hurt. You didn’t want to have to mediate a Dixon discussion right now. 

“Ya hear-?” 

“Yeah. Woman?” 

 

 

“What do you mean, you want to move her? Move her where? Do you see her?” 

That was- you knew that voice too, and it was important too. 

“We need to get everyone to the Hilltop. The medical trailer there will help her, Carl. We can’t stay here; we’re in the sewer.” 

“She could die!” 

“She will die if we don’t get her there!” 

 

 

You were moving, and every motion was agony; white, brilliant lightening agony. 

You tried to ask whoever was making you move to stop, please, please just stop because it hurts, it hurts, it hurts- 

You heard a whimper and the motion stopped. 

Thank God. 

 

 

Something cool on your forehead. 

“She’s burning up.” 

“Gotta move fuckin’ faster, then, don’t we?” 

No, please. Don’t start moving again, god, don't. Just let you die in peace. 

 

 

You were trapped and everything was on fire. 

You thought it was Rick’s house, but you weren’t sure, and just as you started to look around, the light went out and no, no- it was the cell; you were sure of it. 

The light was gone but the fire remained, reaching your skin as you beat against the locked door of the cell and screamed for the Governor to let you out; not to hurt Daryl- 

But wait, that wasn’t right, was it? 

 

 

Something smelled like charred flesh, so you must have been in Terminus. It wasn’t dark anymore; it was bright, bright light so strong you could see nothing but blinding white as you looked around frantically for the source of the smell. 

You were screaming for someone again, worried for someone, but you didn’t know who- 

“Maggie. He’s working on her. He is- was- a med student. Have we heard from Carol? Do you know anything about the Kingdom?” 

That wasn’t Gareth’s voice, but you were in Terminus, right, so it had to be Gareth? Didn’t it? 

God, now something was hurting, screaming agony on top of agony, digging sharp teeth into your side and ripping in; taking a bite out of you while-

No, not eating you; not Gareth and the Creepy Cannibal Crew because you weren’t there. You were- somewhere else. 

Somewhere older than that. Somewhere with gauzy curtains on the windows and sticky Georgia heat and hard linoleum floors under your scrabbling fingertips, and you were crying, begging, pleading- 

But someone was holding you down, and-

 

 

Something was in your hand, and someone was trying to take it from you. You couldn't let them, though, because it was rusty kitchen scissors with blades that stuck when you tried to open them and chipped orange-brown grips and thick red blood oozing from the blades. 

You needed those. You couldn’t let them take those, because you needed to kill- 

Someone? 

“Just let ‘er keep the damn thing!”

"Are you serious? It's-" 

"I fuckin' know what it is! Do you hear her? You know where she thinks she is right now? Leave it!" 

 

 

The searing light was gone and you were floating along on a river of pain so strong you no longer felt it; instead rising just above it and floating. Dimly aware that your body wasn’t your own, you were looking for someone. Someone who could ground you and make it all better, because the pain wasn't working like it usually did; it was making things worse instead. 

You needed someone specific, who smelled of earth and motor oil and the coppery tang of blood- which shouldn't have been soothing, but mixed with the other scents and that unique something you could never really identify; it was. There was a word... no, a name; a very important name to go with the very specific someone, and you groped around for it before- 

“Dixon,” you murmured dreamily, the ghost of a touch drifting into your thoughts- cold like an ice cube on against your cheek, but several steps removed from your skin. You knew it was there, something touching your face; but you weren’t a part of your body right now, so- 

“YN? Hey! Hey, doc! I heard- she said-” 

The suddenness of the light slammed you back into your body, thrusting you from your blissful drifting under the surface of the river of endless screaming agony, where you were drowning, drowning, drowning; and then there was just screaming. 

 

 

“You must understand, it is not the gunshot that worries me the most, or any of the other injuries. It is the fever. It is- very high.” 

“So whatcha gonna do ‘bout, doc? Say some fuckin’ prayers to Allah?” 

“Don’t be a racist dick, Merle. He’s doing his best!” 

“I will say a prayer for her. But I will also treat her medically with everything I have available. Unfortunately, most of what we can do is wait.”

“Fuckin’ wait? That’s all?” 

“Yes.” 

 

 

Waiting was something you knew how to do, especially in cool dark places. You'd been waiting a lot; waiting for the door to the cell to crack open and Merle to take you and Maggie to get Glenn. 

But no, that couldn't happen yet because something else happens first, something horrible, and you have to lock part of yourself away to do it. It's happening now, so you guessed the waiting was over, and yeah, yeah; there. There were hands on your hips and there was pain in your face and pain in your stomach and pain elsewhere, but someone was saying Maggie's name, so if Maggie was here you had to do it. 

She couldn't do it, so you had to, but you wished this part was over and Merle would come rescue you already. Why wasn't he coming to rescue you? This was the part where he did, where he gave you a shirt and broke your rib, so why wasn't he-

Shit, shit, there it was, your side exploding with the force of his blow, but he'd save you from that asshole with the hands that hurt and the empty cold voice, and no- damn it, you weren't supposed to be in this room again; where was Merle? 

Wasn't he coming to save you this time? 

"Hey, hey, baby sister. C'mmon now; settle down, darlin'. Ya ain't needing savin' from nothing right now, sugar; it's all in your head. Go on and wake up for me now, girlie, aight? Please, girl; break ol' Merle's heart screaming out for me like that." 

That voice mattered, and it shouldn't have had that watery thick sound to it. You tried to tell the voice not to cry, but you didn't know if it came out right. You thought maybe it didn't. 

 

 

Your throat was screaming. You weren’t screaming- you were pretty sure; more sure of that than of anything else right now- but your throat was raw and on fire. 

No, it was Alexandria that was on fire. 

Goddamn it, something was on fire and you were thirsty. 

You tried to speak, to ask for water, and all that came out was a garbled growling sound that you weren't sure was even human. 

“Don’t say anything. Here, just drink. No, I wouldn’t open your-” 

The voice cut off into dry laughter as the pain shot through your eyeballs and stabbed into your brain again. Well, that was that, you were truly dead. There’d be no coming back as a walker now that they’d pierced your brain. 

“Hurts like a bitch, doesn’t it? Yeah, stop trying to talk and drink some water. Then try the eyes thing again, but, like- slowly, idiot.” 

Something brushed your lips as a hand slid behind your head and helped you lift upward some, and you felt the cool touch of liquid against cracked and dry lips. You started to drink rapidly, feeling the water spill down around your mouth and roll down the line of your throat. You probably should have been embarrassed, but you weren’t. 

There was something urgent you were trying to remember; something really, really important that you needed to do. Needed to say. Needed to find? 

Shit, why couldn’t you think? 

Maybe if you opened your eyes. The very thought of doing that shit again made you wince, and for some reason that made you all the more determined to actually do it. Because you were a fucked up bitch, apparently. So, slowly, like whatever asshole had been laughing at your misery had instructed, you cracked open one eye. 

Ok, that wasn’t so bad. You blinked a few times, tears welling and spilling and that was it, the ceiling of an unfamiliar place coming into focus. You heard that familiar chuckle beside you. 

“Welcome back, Troublemaker,” he said, and you turned your head- again, very, very, slowly; that seemed to be the key to things here- and looked at Ninja Jesus. 

“Hey,” you croaked on your second try. “What the fuck happened?” 

“That’s something we were hoping you could tell us, actually,” Jesus said, clearly amused. “Maybe starting with that?” He pointed to something on the table beside your bed and you did another super slow turn. 

Oh.

“Oh, Jesus,” you whispered. 

“No, I didn't have anything to do with that. That was all you.”


	72. This Party Favor Leaves A Lot To Be Desired

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cannon what cannon?  
> cannon typical violence  
> injuries

You were staring, completely and utterly aghast, at the- the thing on the table beside the bed; Jesus’ incredibly poor attempt at humor barely even registering as you tried to fucking process what it was you were looking at. Before you made much headway- oh God- the door to the medical trailer slammed open and Daryl came through like a thundercloud of wet-haired, glorious redneck fury, the strength of anger rolling off him almost perceptible to the human eye. 

He was wearing his vest again. 

Holy hell, what had been happening around here?

“There, ya fuckers happy? I took a damn shower and washed all the damn walker shit off! So do I have your permission now to fuckin' sit with my unconscious wife while she-” 

He turned that hot glare to Jesus’ amused face and finally to you, and he cut himself off abruptly as he met your eyes. 

“Shit, woman. What the hell?” He snapped it out after a pause, the temper in his eyes not fading one tiny bit, and you started laughing. 

What. The actual. Fuck. 

“Think this is some kinda joke, woman? I say ‘be careful’ and what the fuck do ya hear? ‘Go face off with fuckin’ Negan and get myself shot and burned and stabbed and beat the fuck up and damn near killed’? The fuck, woman!” 

He was yelling and pacing, his eyes wild and never leaving yours. Jesus was looking on with mild interest, like this was a totally normal scene, but it wasn’t. 

Oh, God; oh Jesus H. Fucking Christ on a cracker, it wasn’t. 

Well, Daryl pacing and yelling at you over something stupid and reckless; yes. That was normal. You being unsure what body part hurt the most and wishing he’d be done with the yelling and get around to kissing you? 

That, sadly, was also distressing normal, now that you thought about it. 

Some dude in black leather who looks like and calls himself Jesus sitting at your bedside holding- oh God, holding a hot pink tumbler of water with a purple children’s bendy straw sticking from it, and even better bringing it to his lips and taking a sip?

That wasn’t normal. 

And then there was the thing. The thing on the table that you were still trying to process, but couldn’t because you were distracted by Daryl. 

You were laughing harder with every pace Daryl made, every word; the laughter coming from somewhere deep inside your psyche where there was a version of yourself with your hands clapped over your eyes and rocking back and forth in a corner. If you were being totally honest, you were starting to think this whole thing, everything, was just a hallucination, because there was no way- no fucking way- that the thing sitting over there was what you thought it was. 

“Shit, woman, would you stop that? Damn it, Jesus, make yourself useful and get the doc!” 

Daryl’s voice cut through the edge of hysterical laughter than was rapidly giving way to great hiccuping sobs and wordless, mindless half-screams; and his hands on your face were cool and gentle, more gentle than they should have been since the skin of them was rough and cracked with calluses and scars, and Daryl in general wasn’t a gentle man. 

At least, not with anyone but you and Little Ass-kicker, anyway. 

“Hey, c’mon. Breathe, damn it. I know ya had a bad fuckin’ day, woman, but so have I, and I need ya to calm the fuck down so ya can tell me you’re ok. Come on, that’s it, get the air in. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with your goddamn lungs; you’re just a crazy bitch, ya know that. Breathe. That’s it. In and out.” 

Wonder of wonders, that profanity-laced angry pep talk worked- probably because it was his voice, low and soothing, and that voice had called you out of more than a few spells of insanity already. His eyes were right there boring into yours, wet hair clinging to the side of his face as he held you so you looked into his unwavering eyes. You distracted yourself from the gibbering and the imaginary hand clenched around your neck and slowly strangling you by trying to name every emotion you saw swirling in their depths. 

You’d found fear and anger and worry quickly enough, and as you sucked in the first deep breath, relief swarmed up. Love and desperation were easy to spot, and right on the end of that thought, you could feel his fingers trembling against your face. 

Just like that, with that tiny show of how truly worried he was, the laughter shut off and you were breathing again, and then Siddiq was quietly but firmly moving Daryl out of the way and shining a small light into your eyes. 

 

 

Rick, Carl, Merle, Daryl, Jesus, and Maggie were all in the trailer now, milling around and grinning at you and waiting for you to tell them just what the hell had happened. You were sitting up in the bed, leaning back into Daryl’s chest partly for comfort and reassurance, but mostly because you couldn’t hold yourself upright anymore.

Problem was, you still weren’t totally sure what exactly had happened. 

You had two broken ribs that Siddiq had been sure about and another two that he’d shrugged and said quietly could go either way; a concussion; a new-and-improved face full of bruises as well as a swollen eye and split lip; Negan’s hand print around your throat in a delightful shade of black and blue; small but annoyingly painful cuts from Lucille’s bite all over your throat and chin; a constellation of burns on your arm that you thought were probably from flying embers but didn’t know for sure; and somewhere along the way during the fight, you’d managed to impale yourself in the leg with a sizable shard of glass and you had absolutely no memory of doing so. And the through-and-through gunshot on your side that had by some miracle missed anything of importance but was already making Rick freak out with guilt.

Oh, and the infection from- well, pick any of those.

Daryl was pissed. 

Carl was pissed. 

Merle was white as a sheet, and, oh yeah, also pissed. 

But most of all, they wanted to know things- like how, and why, and what the fuck? And that was great, since you also wanted to know all of those things. 

“So, are you ready to talk about....?” Maggie nodded toward the bedside table, eyes lingering on the thing and looking a little green around the edges. Lord, you couldn’t blame her. It made you want to hurl, and you weren’t pregnant. 

“Ugh. I guess?” 

“What- I mean-” Rick looked awed and confused and also a little scared, and again, you didn’t blame him. 

“What the man’s tryin’ to say, little sister, is how the hell did ya do that, and why the hell didn’t ya ask for help?” 

You grimaced. “It seemed like a good idea at the time,” you said slowly, thinking hard as you tried to sort out what was real and what had been fever nightmares. 

Carl laughed. “Yeah, we’re so going to fight later, ok? But since no one else is saying it, I will. Good fucking job.” 

You blinked at him. “Ok, mister ‘Is this really who you want to be’, did you just thank me for- that?” You tipped your head in the thing’s direction. 

Carl grimaced and shrugged. “I wanted it to end as peacefully as possible. Still do, since we’re not completely done yet. I don’t think everyone needs to die, but he did. The war will end much quicker now.” 

You grunted. “Ok. Well, you’re welcome, I guess? And sorry about, you know. How’s your ankle? What’s been going on out here?” 

“His ankle’s fine, little sister, and we’ll catch ya up soon enough. We need to talk about the elephant in the damn room, though, so stop tryin’ to weasel your way out of it,” Merle snapped at you. 

“Trauma can impact memory pretty severely,” Jesus put in mildly. “And I think we can all agree, Troublemaker has been fairly traumatized. Why don’t we all just take a breath and give her a chance to ease into it?” He smiled at you a little and patted your outstretched leg. 

“Yeah, I think traumatized might be putting it mildly,” you said, and Daryl growled a little from behind you, his hand tightening on yours. “Guys, for real, why is it there? And why is it- you know, not dealt with?” 

Everyone in the room- including Daryl- started laughing, and you looked at them blankly. 

“Hell, little sister, we done tried! You wouldn’t let go’a the damn thing so we could!” Merle said, and you blinked. 

“When they made me go get a damn shower, it was still in ya hand. Guess Jesus managed to wrestle it away from ya,” Daryl put in, his eyes showing the barest trace of humor when you tipped your head up to look at him. 

You frowned, searching through the vague fever-dream impressions that currently made up your memory and feeling the blood drain from your head when you remembered someone trying to take what you’d thought were the scissors you’d stabbed your ex with. “Oh good God. I thought- I was-” 

“We know, woman,” Daryl said softly, and everyone looked away from you uncomfortably. 

Ok. Ok, great. So from that you were going to assume that those whacked-out dreams you’d been having were fairly vocal, apparently. Perfect. That’s exactly what you want to hear. 

“Oh,” you said mildly. “Ok. Maybe someone should, I don’t know, deal with it now?” 

They looked back at you. You shrugged. 

“From what I can remember- and please keep in mind, I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly by that point- I wanted to bring it as proof. I certainly wasn’t intending to keep it or anything.” 

Carl snorted. “Don’t want to start your own personal collection?” 

You shuddered. “No. Thank you. Anyone have a knife? Hell, do I have a knife?” You suddenly realized you didn’t know if you did or not. You were wearing a faded flannel and some drawstring pants of some kind, definitely not the nightmare gorefest you’d been dressed in when you’d collapsed at the end of your trek through Alexandria. So you honestly had no idea what you did or didn’t have. 

“I’ll do it, woman,” Daryl muttered, and he shifted behind you a bit. You closed your eyes as there was a wet squelch and a thunk, then forced yourself to look over at it. 

Holy fucking Christ, it got worse each time you looked. 

At least it wasn’t looking around anymore, or doing that mouth-opening thing either. Ugh. You guessed that was a good thing as you regarded Negan’s severed head, with Daryl’s knife sticking from the top of its skull like the candle on a truly horrifying cake.


	73. You Were Only Mostly Dead, Come On Guys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon what cannon?   
> Cannon typical violence  
> PTSD dreams/triggers  
> past rape/non con  
> past abuse  
> past child abuse  
> just generally a lot of shitty stuff to deal with; I'm so sorry.

They tried not to tell you what was going on. Rick fussed like the biggest goddamn mother hen in the universe, and as you’d fully expected, the Dixon boys weren’t any better. Surprisingly, considering his reaction to your close encounter of the almost fatal kind with the walker two days before, it was Carl who huffed and told the others to stop acting like you would break. 

You appreciated that. A full day had passed while you were in and out of consciousness, and there was a lot you needed to catch up on. The others had listened, rapt, as you talked about going to Rick’s house to wait for Negan. 

“- and I was about to step in and help Rick when he finally decided to use his house instead of just his fists, and beaned the asshole across the face. Then he ended up out the window, and I swear to God, I didn’t even know I’d been hit until later. If I had, I'd have- well, I wouldn't have stopped, but I'd have done things differently. Rick ran, and I was so damn close to taking Negan out. Asshole has unbelievable luck,” you grumbled. “He managed to not die right then and beat the shit out of me for awhile instead. Then he made a mistake, I took advantage, and he’s dead.” You shrugged, and all of them were eyeing you skeptically. They each had expressions that told you they knew you were leaving a lot out of the story, and Merle and Daryl had that Dixon discussion glint to their eyes. 

Well, you’d be happy to yell at them both later. Right now you needed to know what had been going on while you were only nominally alive. 

“So, let’s talk about you guys,” you said briskly, widening your eyes innocently and ignoring the pointed looks. “Dixon, how’d you get your vest back?” 

That seemed like as good a place to start as any.

He snorted. “Dwight. Fucker was leading the group that chased us. Lead ‘em right into the ambush; killed some of his own.” 

“He dead?” Your tone was brisk, businesslike. If he wasn’t, you were going to get in line to take your shot when you were in a little less pain. You didn’t care how much he helped you and yours.

“Naw. Said he could help more with information on the Saviors. Let him live till this is done, and he ended up leadin’ Saviors away while we were getting here. He’s back with ‘em,” Daryl growled in your ear. You nodded and leaned into him a little more as you felt exhaustion starting to creep in. His thumb stroked against your wrist where his hand was wrapped loosely around yours. 

“What about everyone else? All of Negan’s people weren’t in Alexandria. Three of his lieutenants were missing.” 

Maggie’s face closed down suddenly and Jesus reached out a hand and laid it on her shoulder as he spoke. “Simon intercepted us on the way to the meet up. He shot one of ours and threatened to shoot Jerry from the Kingdom as well. We agreed to what he demanded- that Hilltop continue to produce for the Saviors or more would die- and came back. Maggie... uh-” 

“I shot one of the Saviors Jesus took prisoner and sent him back to them in the box they’d brought to use as a coffin for Jerry,” Maggie said harshly, and your eyebrows shot up as you gave a low whistle. 

“Damn, Rhee,” you said, impressed and frankly a little scared. Maggie’s face softened just a bit when you used her last name. “That’s cold. I love it. How many prisoners do you have here?” 

She shrugged. “Thirty eight? Something like that. I threatened to kill them all one by one if the Saviors didn’t back down.” 

“Shit, Mags!” you laughed a little and instantly regretted it as the ribs stabbed at you. “Fuck,” you groaned. “Oh, God, I forgot how much this sucks.” 

“Dammit, woman,” Daryl snarled, and you giggled a little. “The hell you laughin’ at?” 

“Us,” you said, tipping your head back on his shoulder to look up at him fondly. “We always end up here, don’t we? Me getting beat up and you growling at me.” You boosted up and pressed a kiss to his jaw, weirdly happy. It was probably the crash-and-burn of your hormones and adrenaline, but whatever. Negan was dead and you were banged up but alive. 

“Maybe ya should stop gettin’ the shit beat outta you by every damn bad guy we come across then,” he groused, but his hands tightened over yours and he buried his face in your hair for a minute.

There were fond smiles on everyone’s faces as you looked back at the group, but you were still all business. “What about the Kingdom? Do we know what’s happening there?” 

“Little sister, you been unconscious for a day. Why don’t you just rest for awhile, and we’ll deal with the Kingdom for ya?” Merle snapped, and you took a minute to look at him. He was pale and looked exhausted and about ten years older than you'd ever seen him look, eyes sad and hard. Your heart twisted, and you reached out a hand for him. He latched onto your fingers and held on hard enough for you to see white in his knuckles. 

“Merle. I’m ok,” you told him gently, and he snorted. 

“’Course ya are. You still need to rest, though.” 

“I need to know what’s going on so we can take the next steps. I need this whole damn thing to be over so I can go see how bad the damage is at home. I need an end to the goddamn war, Merle!” You didn't mean to say all that, and definitely not in that way. Your voice was rising with each word and you heard the edge of hysteria in it, but you couldn’t stop. Fucking hormones and shit. “I need every fucking person in the room, and all the ones not in it that I love, to be safe, and that means I. Need. Information.”

“Settle down, woman,” Daryl whispered in your ear as everyone was shifting, eyeing you worriedly. “Ya ain’t in this alone, you know.” 

You realized you were breathing hard and there were tears on your cheeks. Fuck. Breathing deeply through your nose, you tried to bring some measure of calm to your mind, but you couldn’t. Fear and adrenaline had been running you for so damn long, you didn’t know how to not live that way. 

Plus, a lot of old wounds had been opened while you were fever dreaming. Living through even more fucked-up versions of past traumas was not doing any good for your already disturbed mind. 

“Sorry, Merle,” you muttered to him after a minute, squeezing the hand you still held in yours. He made no move to let go of you so you didn’t either. If anything, he shifted a little closer to you, eyes still concerned. 

“The Kingdom took a hit, but everyone got out. They’re here, in the Hilltop. Carol, Morgan, and Ezekiel killed all of the Saviors who attacked the Kingdom,” Carl finally answered your question, and you nodded. 

“Is the Kingdom still standing, or did they do what they did at home?” 

“Carol said it was still standing,” Maggie said.

“So we still have the crop potential of its gardens. Good,” you murmured, but your body was betraying you. Your eyes were so damn heavy and thinking was starting to feel a little too much like moving through sludge. 

You paused to think for a minute, your eyes drifting closed. Voices continued around you, but you were trying to put together all the information you had and come up with a plan, so you tuned them out. 

“Yeah, pretty sure she’s asleep,” Carl’s voice held a laugh and you wanted to tell him he was wrong, but- 

 

“Are you gonna talk?” 

The Georgian drawl wasn’t like Daryl’s or Merle’s, redneck backwoods and thick. It wasn’t like Rick’s, pure Southern country, but missing that hillbilly edge your Dixon boys boasted proudly. It was smooth and cultured; deep South gentry instead of the common folk. And it was empty and cold and filled your stomach with pure liquid terror.   
The sound of a zipper was echoing in the silent blankness of the cell. 

Something wasn’t right. You knew that, even as you felt long, cool fingers grip you from behind. Something wasn’t right about this at all. Negan didn’t- 

But Negan was just a head now, a wide mouth opening and closing uselessly, glaring at you as if to say ‘see? see why you shouldn’t have killed me? I could have stopped this.’ 

You were slammed face first into a table while light from under the crack in the door of the cell illuminated Negan’s head with its accusing eyes and snapping teeth inches from your face and that cultured Southern voice called you a slut and said you’d never amount to anything if you kept spreading your legs for every man who looked your way. 

This wasn’t how it had gone; how any of it had gone. You didn’t know the exact moment you realized you were dreaming, but somehow it clicked into place, as you struggled and the owner of the voice clamped a hand around your throat and threw you to the ground. Your reaching fingers were looking for something, anything to use as a weapon, and instead they landed on soft, cooling flesh. 

A jerk of your head against a hand in your hair shifted the scene, and you were in Negan’s bedroom, pinned over the bed like you’d been over a table once. You looked around wildly for the body you’d felt, and your heart stopped and you started screaming at the top of your lungs when you saw them. 

All around, piled in Negan’s room, were the bodies of the people you loved, some with wide clouded over eyes, some with their faces turned away from you, some with no heads to speak of. On the bed with you, as the owner of the voice slammed into you over and over, were Daryl and Merle. Merle’s face was barely recognizable, beaten to hell as he was, and Daryl- 

Daryl was naked and covered in the type of bruises you knew well, and the Southern gentry voice laughed and morphed into something else, something hard and drunk and bitter and angry, and the weight holding you down was gone. 

A belt lashed out and cracked across Merle’s shoulders and he screamed in pain, and you realized he wasn’t dead like you’d thought, and- 

 

“Wake up, now!” 

Merle sounded frantic, but there was someone gripping your shoulder and you were too damn petrified to think. You swung out, connected, and were scrambling backwards before your brain caught up with your body. 

Pain came from everywhere and had you crumbling to the ground with a whimper as Merle muttered an oath. You heard a chair scrape back and then a click, and soft light brought the world into view. Merle stepped around the bed to where you were in a pitiful heap on the floor and looked down at you, rotating his jaw like it hurt. 

Aw, shit. You’d punched him, just now. 

“Can I help ya up, little sister?” he asked gently, and you let your head flop against the floor with a groan. 

“I’m so sorry,” you said, trying to hide the fact that there were tears in your eyes and your heart rate hadn’t settled back down. “I can get up on my own.” 

“You could,” he acknowledged. “But I ain’t gonna let ya.” He bent and got his good arm under yours, and you leaned on him as he straightened slowly, then collapsed back on the bed with a grunt. 

“What time is it?” you asked, looking around the trailer at the darkness beyond the lantern’s glow. 

“Sometime in the early hours." Merle eased down into the chair beside your bed, touching his fingers to his jaw briefly. You could have been mistaken, but you were pretty sure you saw a flash of pride in his eyes when he glanced at you, like he was pleased with the force behind your punch. 

“So I’m guessing I’ve been asleep for awhile,” you said wryly. 

“Ya could say that, little sister. Gonna talk about it?” 

You considered, but didn’t think there was any way to properly explain a nightmare like that. “No.” 

He nodded. “You wanna go back to sleep?” 

You shivered. “Hell no. I wanna get out of here and start making some plans.” 

Merle laughed. “What makes you think I’m not here to keep ya in bed?” 

“Oh, I know you are,” you told him with a cheerful grin. “But I can get around you easy enough, big brother.” 

“How about a compromise, girlie? You stay right there and you’n’I’ll talk strategy until your ears bleed.” Merle was smiling at you faintly, but there was a haunted edge to his eyes that made your heart hurt. 

“How much have I been saying out loud, Merle?” you asked quietly, and he flinched. 

“Enough, baby sister. Enough. Had to send my little brother to get some rest. He, ah-” Merle licked his lips, eyes on the wall behind you. “He weren’t holding together too well anymore. Ain’t the first one you’ve had since ya fell asleep on us.” 

That got a frown since it was the only one you remembered. And you didn’t remember anything at all since dimly hearing Carl say something about you being asleep. God, you really were in bad shape. 

“You been callin’ out for us both, little sister,” Merle whispered, and his voice was rough. “Cain’t stand hearin’ that from you.” 

“Hey...” you whispered, scooting closer to where he sat, head down and a tear on his cheek. “What- “ You broke off, shaking your head, not really sure what the best thing to do here was. 

“One point ya were askin’ why I wasn’t coming to save ya.” The words were so soft you barely heard. “You started thrashin’ around, said something about having to save Maggie, and it was ok because Merle was gonna come and rescue ya. Then you started screaming for me, wanting to know where I was. You asked why I wasn’t coming, and I ain’t never-” 

Fucking hell. You hurt picturing it; wondered what you would've done if he'd been feverish and screaming for your help. 

You were pretty sure you'd have killed someone. Or maybe just yourself.

Guilt stabbed through you at what you'd put them through as Merle drew in a shaky breath. Dammit, your big, tough guardian angel wasn’t supposed to cry. Not like this; not over you. You scooted backward and patted the bed beside you. “Come here.” 

“Naw, girlie; I’m sorry,” he muttered, dashing tears from his eyes. “You’re all banged up; and I'm supposed to be lookin' after ya.” 

“Yeah,” you said with a smile and batted your eyelashes at him innocently. “Thought you told me while we were locked in a train once that you’d be my damn pillow.” 

He laughed a little, startled and thick with tears, but still a laugh like you'd wanted. “Jesus, little sister, how many lifetimes ago was that?” 

You grinned and shrugged. “A few. Now come here. I need a pillow, and Daryl’s not here.” 

He muttered another protest, but eventually he climbed up and stretched his legs out. You curled into his side, leaning against his shoulder, and smiled harder when he didn’t flinch. Progress had been made with both of your Dixon boys. 

“You gonna talk about it?” he asked after a minute. “Or should we start namin’ all the ways we can come up with to end these damn Saviors before they kill anybody else?” 

You sighed a little. You really wanted to do the second; screw talking about it. But this was Merle. “It was.. a mashup of the worst things in my life. Plus a few that never happened, all jumbled in together.” 

“You were screamin’ for us both,” he said softly. “Figured it that was enough. Baby brother told me not to try to touch ya or wake ya up if one happened. Said that tended to go bad if they were strong enough for anyone to know about it. Remember a few of your screaming ones from the prison.” 

You shivered, and he shifted a little under your shoulder and leaned his head on yours for a minute. 

“First it was the usual stuff. My ex, the Governor, Negan's head staring at me while the Governor did- things. Then it shifted, and that was still happening, but I was in Negan's bedroom, and everyone- everyone was dead. You and Daryl were there, and Daryl was- was naked and I knew the Governor or maybe my ex or whoever, had- had done the same thing to him he was doing to me. And- and then suddenly it wasn't that at all, and there was someone I couldn't see and I couldn't really hear, but I think it was your dad; and he- he hit you with a belt, and I swear I thought you were dead, Merle, but you screamed and-" 

"Aw, baby sister," Merle whispered, and you cuddled in closer as he wrapped his arm around you and kissed your head. "Ain't worth dreamin' about, my daddy. Ain't like he can hurt me or little brother no more. None of the rest of 'em can hurt you either, darlin'." 

"I know. I just- I can’t lose you two,” you whispered. “That’s why I did it. Why I went after him on my own. Daryl- he was talking about being tired of it, wanting us all safe, not caring about the cost of winning. I knew that tone. That tone leads to him doing stupid shit like chasing cars to Atlanta and disappearing on his bike without saying good bye. Wanted to handle the stupid shit for once.” You got quiet for a minute before continuing. “And I really, honestly, didn’t think I’d get shot.” 

Merle snorted. “Yeah, gettin’ shot’s a bitch. Ya ain’t gonna lose us, you idiot. Ol’ Merle’s always commin’ back to you and my baby brother. No matter the cost.” 

You sighed. “Why do you think I get worried? You guys go all in, and then expect me not to do the same. Bullshit. Now. Let’s talk about these Saviors. What do we know about their plans so far?” You changed the subject firmly and deliberately, mind shying away from all the shit rolling around in it.

After a beat, Merle started talking. You’d actually had some pretty good ideas before you fell asleep again, on his shoulder, a few hours later.


	74. Look At Me, I'm Alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon divergence  
> mentions of past rape/non con  
> mentions of past abuse

“Ya look better, little brother,” Merle’s voice was soft, like he wasn’t trying to wake you, but you stirred anyway. 

“I guess. Slept. How’s she doin’?” 

Jesus. Your heart hurt at the weariness in Daryl’s voice, and you remembered Merle saying things had been so bad he’d had to send Daryl out for awhile. You knew what it took to pry Daryl from your side when you’d been fucked up like this. You couldn’t imagine what kinds of things you’d been saying or doing to make him need to leave. 

“Had a bad one. I mean a real shitter. Ended with you’n’me and everyone she loves dead in Negan’s bedroom, and then our daddy beating me across the back with a belt.” 

“How the hell d’ya know that, Merle?” Daryl snarled, and you felt Merle’s chuckle through the shoulder you leaned against. 

“She told me. Why ya think I’m up here with her? She asked me to. Only been asleep again for a couple hours. We been workin’ on a plan. She’s gonna be aight, baby brother,” Merle’s voice was fond and gentle, and you could hear the smile. 

“I will be,” you murmured in agreement, slowly forcing your eyes to open. “Morning, Dixon.” 

Daryl’s face was haggard, and he looked like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to scoop you into his arms or run away from you as fast as he could. But when you met his eyes, he smiled ever so faintly back. 

“Mornin’, woman,” he whispered, and he started to cry. 

 

 

Merle slipped out quietly, kissing your hair gently and putting his hand on Daryl’s back as he left. When he had gone, you grabbed Daryl’s hand and tugged until he climbed up into the bed with you. 

As soon as he had, his arms locked around you and his face was in your hair. He held on, crying like his heart was broken, and the guilt kept building and building inside you as you rubbed circles on his back and whispered that it was over. It was over. You were going to be ok. 

“Woman,” he said softly, after he’d stopped crying and the two of you were simply laying there together, wrapped around each other as best you could get, considering the state of you. “I know you’re a tough bitch, and this is who ya are. But you damn near killed me this time. Need you to take better care of yourself.”

You shot out a harsh laugh. “Oh, Dixon, please believe this was not in the plan!”

He huffed out air into your hair. “Yeah, I know. It’s never in the damn plan, and yet- and yet you’re the one hallucinatin’ every bad thing that ever happened to ya.” 

“And a few that I’m just afraid of,” you added softly, fingers tightening in his as you thought about some of what you’d dreamed. “I’m so sorry. I don’t- I don’t know how you deal with me, honestly. If you did half the shit I put you through? I’d have tied you to a chair a long time ago.” 

He rumbled a laugh into your shoulder, his lips tracing over your skin. “Thought about it.” 

“I’m not surprised.” 

“Love ya for your strength, though. Wouldn’t be you without it. It ain’t even finding ya a blood-covered, unconscious mess. Done that before.” 

You winced, remembering a prison and Shane and waking up in a cell with Daryl’s terrified eyes on you. “Yeah, sorry about that.” 

“Whatever. It’s- I had to- Holdin’ you down so Siddiq could patch up that damn bullet hole? I thought-” he shivered, hard, and cold washed over you in a wave. 

“Oh, Jesus, Dixon. I- I don’t- I couldn’t have done that,” you whispered, swallowing hard around the lump in your throat. 

“Couldn’t let anyone else. Then ya kept dreamin’ or whatever. Bought took me’n Merle out, woman. You just been through so much shit. Just ready for us to have some- some happy,” he said with a scowl and a grunt, chin on your shoulder now. His fingers played with yours, constantly moving. 

Like he was reassuring himself you were there. And awake. 

You curled into him farther, as much as you could. “Yeah. We have been through a lot. We’ve got to get through this shit with the Saviors. Take out the leaders, rehabilitate the rest.” 

“The fuck you talkin’ about?” he snarled, and you grinned. 

There was the tone you knew and loved. 

“We need to rebuild something, Dixon. Simon, Gavin, Regina- hell, even Eugene if he’s really gone dark side- they have to go. Have to. But the rest? They’re just people. People following orders.” 

He was frowning, but there was something in his eyes when he looked at you. Finally he leaned forward, feathering soft kisses over your bruised face before brushing his lips over yours. 

“I love ya, woman.” 

“Yeah? Then kiss me again,” you whispered back. He chuckled and obliged.

 

 

Rick saw you first, and he smiled as you made your way over. You were up and moving and outside, even if you were holding onto Daryl a little more than you wanted to admit. 

“Cowboy!” you greeted him with a smile. “Look at me; I’m alive!” 

He snorted, shifting his weight and shaking his head. “Barely.” 

“Don’t start, Cowboy. I’m alive; Negan’s dead; let’s end this, okay? I have ideas. Gather the usual suspects?” 

He smiled at that. “Of course you have ideas. Only been in and out of consciousness for two days, and she’s already solved all our problems, I guess.” 

“That’s my woman,” Daryl said with a smug smile. 

 

 

The plan actually ended up being pretty simple, and it went into effect almost immediately. 

Food here at Hilltop was already in short supply. You wouldn’t exactly withstand a siege, so when they came, the fight was going to need to be short, bloody, and brutal. 

The thing was, though, you didn’t want to kill everyone. Not all of them were bad people. And even if you made a stand at Hilltop, there was still the Sanctuary itself to consider. Not to mention the Eugene of it all. 

Dude might have gone full traitor, but he could still make bullets. And, despite your willingness before to blow him up for the greater good, he was still one of yours. 

For once, you were staying out of the main action. You hadn’t even felt the need to argue, because hello. You didn’t have to see you to know you were in rough fucking shape. You and Carl were both semi-sidelined, serving as part of Maggie’s guards. Carl was way more angry about it than you were. 

Daryl and Merle were suspicious, but you reassured them later than you really did intend to stay back. You were beat all the hell and you knew it. 

“See that ya do, little sister,” Merle had snapped, eyes flashing. Daryl had just kissed you once and whispered a thank you. He knew you meant it. 

 

 

You weren’t really able to help with much when it came to preparations. You ended up sitting in the cupola with binoculars, watching the land spread out beneath your feet, and thinking about the future. 

Negan was dead. 

You were still trying to wrap your mind around that little fact, even though you’d been the one who’d made him that way. 

Negan was dead. 

That meant your communities could rebuild and expand. True alliances and trade could begin. Rules and regulations and order- 

Sustainability. That thing you’d been daydreaming about for- Lord, you didn’t even know how long it had been since this shit had started. But you wanted it. You wanted a future. You wanted an after. 

“Not overdoing it, I hope,” Ninja Jesus’ voice sounded amused, as he always did. You glanced at him and smiled. 

“Ninja! What’s up? How’s it going down there?” 

He sat down across from you, tossing his hair out of the way and resting on wrist on his bent knee. “Fine. It’s coming along. Nice plan you’ve worked out.” 

You shrugged. “Everyone contributed.” 

“Yeah. Still. You’re good at this. Plans.” 

“I am,” you agreed with a faint smile. “Plans of all sorts. What’s your plan, Ninja? For after.” 

He looked out the window beyond you. “I have no idea,” he said finally. “I haven’t thought about an after; not for awhile. I’ll help Maggie however I can.” 

“You already help her. I can’t thank you enough for being the friend she needs,” you told him seriously. 

His smile was genuine and fond. “She’s the friend I need. Never really had them before.” 

“Well, you’ve got at least two now,” you said, touching his hand. “And I have some ideas. For after. Might need your help with them.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. We’ll need trade. And trade means rules. We can’t just survive anymore, Jesus. We’ve been just surviving for so long. We tried to make it more than that, with the prison. But we didn’t account for people, and what can happen when people don’t want the same things. I know what can happen now, and that’s why we’ll need rules. Laws, I guess. Order and government as well as food, shelter, safety. Hell, eventually we’re going to need schools, too,” you mused, catching sight of Michonne and Rick walking with the toddling Judith. 

Jesus was grinning when you looked at him. 

“What?” you asked, laughing a little and blushing. 

“I was right,” he said cryptically. “I told Daryl you were one of the special ones. I was right. We’ll make all that happen. I’ll help.” 

“What was it you said when we first me? ‘Your world’s about to get a whole lot bigger’? It has. And we can make it even bigger than it is.”

 

 

There was one more battle to get through, before you could get to after. You were talking with Jesus, taking notes and making sketches and lists and plans in a notebook he produced from a pocket of his ninja coat. He had good ideas, too, and was expanding on some of your vague concepts and improving them. 

You looked forward to working with him. After. 

The horns started echoing in from the road, and you met Jesus’ eyes with your own suddenly serious ones. 

“Time to go,” you said simply.


	75. We Have Heads, But Are There Brains?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon what cannon?  
> Cannon typical violence

You left everything where it was up there- as far as you knew, these guys weren’t planning on blowing things up here at the Hilltop. They needed their breadbasket, after all, if they wanted to eat. 

Ninja helped haul you to your feet, then you waved him on ahead. “Go. I’ll be there soon, and we’ve got a little time for me to hobble,” you told him with a grin. 

He eyed you for a moment before starting down the stairs rapidly. 

You made your way more slowly, but by the time you reached the base of the stairs the stiffness was gone. That was a good sign, considering you were about to fight. 

Well, no, you weren’t going to fight. You’d be glued to Maggie for part one, then in the windows for part two. There was a very nice rifle with a scope that had your name on it, propped in a window between one for Carl and one for Michonne. 

You got to Maggie’s office, found her and Carl and some of the others waiting. She looked at you and smiled. 

“You ready?” 

Your answering look was feral. “Let’s end this.” 

 

The sun set. Your people finished setting up, everyone was in place. 

And you waited. 

 

Finally, finally, when you were crawling out of your skin and ready to sneak off into the woods to find Daryl and Ninja Jesus- both of whom were out there waiting to spring the trap together, and wasn’t that bad news?- to go see what was taking so long and try to fuck some shit up on your own, Jerry gave the signal. 

Maggie glanced at you. “Let’s do this.” 

“Hells yeah, Farmer’s Daughter.” 

 

“I want to talk to Simon,” she said into the radio. 

There was a pause, then the radio clicked. 

“Well hello there. You’re talking to Negan, but my birth certificate does say ‘Simon’. With who do I have the distinct displeasure of speaking?” 

You laughed a little in spite of yourself. The guy was a tool, but he was funny. 

“Maggie,” she snapped, eyes fierce as she looked out at Hilltop’s closed gate. “Maggie Rhee. The Widow.” 

“Well, then. Hello again, Widow Rhee. Allow me to offer my condolences- for what’s happened and what’s about to happen. In case it’s not as plain as Hilltop potatoes, yours truly is speaking on behalf of Negan this go ‘round. And I assure you that the man himself personally received your care package next day delivery.” 

You were grinning, and Carl beside you laughed. 

“That’s a good trick, what with him being dead and all,” he whispered to you. 

“Just wait, young Padawan,” you intoned, and winked at him. 

“I noticed that it was in the box that I gave you in good faith- trick’s on me. But the bill’s come due, and you and your people are gonna have to pay. Quite dearly, I’m afraid,” Simon continued, and you held out a hand for the radio. 

Maggie passed it over and you brought it to your lips. “Hello, Simon.” 

Pause. 

“Well, hello, bossman’s wife! You there with the Widow? We were looking for you in Alexandria.” 

“Oh I know,” you said with a smirk. “I found someone there.” 

Pause. Click. 

“And who might that have been?” 

“Do you want to see? Ok.” You looked up at the wall, signaled to Jerry. He made an ick face as he reached into the bag and pulled out the head. 

He swung it to gain momentum and let it fly over the wall, then shifted to a new location in case anyone had the bright idea to return fire. 

Sudden, faint screaming could be heard from the Saviors. 

“Did you get my package, Simon? You’re not speaking for Negan now, half-wit. You’re trying to be Negan. And you aren’t. You don’t have the stones for it, asshole.” 

There was silence from the radio. 

“This is obviously a fake,” his voice came finally. 

You clicked the radio on and let him hear your laugh. “I assure you; it’s not. It’s real as plain Hilltop potatoes, my friend. Now, let’s get down to business, shall we? We have thirty-eight more of your people. They’re alive.” 

You glanced over your shoulder as the group of them stood gathered around Maggie. “Now, Simon, I understand that you haven’t had the chance to get to know the Widow like I have. She and I have been friends for a long time. She’ll do it, Simon. She’ll shoot each and every one of your people, personally, and send them staggering out there to you to eat your damn brains. If you have any, that is. But that’s not what we want.” 

“What do you want, bitch?” 

“First of all, it’s Dixon to you, asshole,” you said, amused. “Or Troublemaker, if you need to give me one of your nifty, depersonalizing titles. You have three options. A, you turn around and leave us be. Everybody lives. B, you surrender. You, Gavin, Regina, Eugene, Dwight- you answer for your crimes. Everyone else gets to live with us, in harmony and trade. C, you attack.” 

“We’ll take C.” 

“Just so you know, option C always sucks,” you told him with a laugh. “And it will.”

Silence. 

“Well, this is highly regrettable. But the way I see it, those Saviors you’ve got in there are damaged goods. You know, they got themselves into their own pickle, and this organization prizes those who A, avoid capture and B, figure out their own shit when said outcome eventuates. Which in the end is my way of saying screw them.” 

You looked into the eyes of the dude who seemed to be in charge of the captured Saviors. He looked back, nodding slowly, and most of the rest of them shifted their feet and looked away. 

“That’s the kind of people you’ve been working for,” you addressed them bluntly. “We gave the options. Now, you guys? Most of you aren’t bad people, are you? Just following orders. Following the code you had available. Well. If we win, there’s going to be a new code. You’ll be given options. I suggest you chose wisely. Get them inside,” you said with a nod to Diane, one of the Kingdom’s people. 

Their leader’s eyes lingered on you speculatively as the others filed back inside after Diane. You turned back to watching the gate with Maggie, ears straining for- 

And there it was. You glanced at Carl and grinned, knowing he caught it too. The roar of the motorcycle grew louder and was joined with gunfire, and the gates slid slowly open. You held your breath because this was it. The make or break moment; the place the plan either worked- for now- or fell apart and ended with you losing something very important to you. 

Karma really was a fuckin’ bitch, you knew, because right on the heels of you doing dumb shit, Daryl was out there doing dumb shit. 

Well, he trusted you, so you had to trust him, even if you were white knuckled and barely breathing. Carl’s hand came over and patted yours, and you pried your fingers off the hastily-constructed barricade to grip his. 

“He’s got this,” Carl whispered, and you nodded. 

 

 

He did. The next thing you knew, he was roaring through the open gates and down the path, Ninja Jesus flinging himself off the bike and running to his next location, disappearing into the darkness. 

And right behind them, just as you’d hoped, came the first of the Savior’s trucks. 

Only to be slammed into by the bus. 

“Ok then,” you said dryly, huffing out a breath. “There’s step one.” 

“Now!” Maggie roared, and people- your people- sprang up from all over, opening fire on the Saviors pouring in through the gates. 

Step one, successful. Still plenty of time to go wrong though. 

 

 

They started to return fire as your people got mixed up with theirs. The arm bands everyone was still sporting were super helpful, even from a distance and in the dark, and you blessed Merle for coming up with that. Down there in the muck, friendly fire was a real concern. 

When you caught a glimpse of Simon down in the crowd, your eyes narrowed. At his side was Dwight, and you were intrigued by the lowering of your usual level of rage when you saw him. 

Huh. Maybe it was just Daryl’s vest after all. 

You still hated the guy, but it wasn’t quite so... visceral now. 

Simon looked up at Barrington House and grinned, yelling something out, and the back of the truck suddenly erupted into more men, all of them armed and aiming. Gunfire exploded out around you and you muttered an oath and dove for Maggie. 

“Come on, Mags, time to go,” you grunted as Carl fired out into the night, covering the three of you and the others who’d still been on the porch. 

“Scouts and lead ranks, pull back; lay down cover for them!” she yelled, and let you pull her along. 

Time for step two. 

 

Step two was draw them in further to the trap. 

Battle swirled around down there as you and Carl made your way to your places. Michonne was waiting, and she gave you a smile as you scooped up your rifle and panned the melee below through the scope. 

Your people were doing pretty well. There were casualties on both sides, and you caught Siddiq working on Tobin behind one of the barricades while Ezekiel covered them. You didn’t see Daryl anywhere, or Ninja Jesus, but Merle had a pistol in his hand and was grinning from ear to ear as he kept up a steady stream of fire. 

You shook your head fondly and kept scanning. Something caught your eye as Maggie gave the signal and your people tossed flash-bangs and shot out truck lights, the world exploding in a swirl of smoke and light that faded instantly into darkness. 

Silence. 

 

She waited, because of course she did, drawing them further and further in. You were grinning as you watched through the scope, Simon and his people creeping slowly out from their cover and heading right down the gullet. Like morons. 

But that thing that you’d seen was tickling at the back of your mind, and as you waited for the signal for step three, you were thinking about it. After all, it was step three, and things had been going too well. 

Then the lights snapped back on, and you moved with the rest of them, lighting Simon’s people up. You picked your targets slowly; dropping two before they broke and ran. More lights came on, blinding them, and your people came busting out from either side, heading back into the kill zone with brutal efficiency. 

Rick was swinging that fucking hatchet again. 

Then it hit you. 

 

“Shit!” you snapped, and dropped your rifle. 

“Where you going?” Carl asked, and Michonne glanced up at you as your scrambled to your feet. 

“Gotta check on something, kid. Stay here,” you told him grimly. He glared at you and started to get to his feet, but you touched his arm. 

“Seriously, Grimes. I think it’s nothing, but I have to check. Stay here; stick to the plan.” 

He scowled, but you headed to the door.


	76. Dixons Get Shit Done

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon is dead; there is no such thing  
> cannon-typical violence

You headed toward the back of Barrington house, sliding through the darkness and trying to remember the layout. You hoped you were wrong, and that the group you’d seen slip out of the kill zone hadn’t made it far, but you couldn’t risk it. 

They’d gone before the trap was sprung, while your people were still fully engaged, so it was entirely possible they’d gotten by. Which meant you’d have to deal with them. 

Maybe you should have brought Michonne along. 

 

 

You’d been right, and you were cursing yourself for a damn fool when you found them. There were five of them, including Regina and that bitch Arat who just would not die. You did a rapid check of your current status. 

Injured, but mobile. Armed, but missing any big guns. You’d been banking on being wrong, and on stealth. You had your handgun, your knife, your machete. That was it. And you had a bullet hole in your side, a cut on your leg, and broken ribs all slowing you down. 

Plus, there were five of them and only one of you. 

Shit, this was not going to be good. 

A hand clapped over your mouth and you bit down instinctively, tasting leather and blood as your teeth closed on a glove and you rammed your elbow back. It found only air, and you started to jab with the other one, but- 

“Shhh! Stop that,” a voice hissed in your ear. You did, instantly. 

Ninja Jesus. 

“Five?” he breathed in your ear and you nodded. 

“Together?” you whispered back. 

“Yeah.” 

 

You hit them from two sides, you from where you were and Jesus having crept around the back. Jesus knew the place better than you did, so you let him do the sneaking. He hit first, like you’d agreed, and then you did. 

Between the two of you, you dropped three of the five in thirty seconds. Arat and Regina were better than the others, though. Regina went after Ninja Jesus in a flurry of punches and kicks and swinging knives, and you took a moment to admire Jesus’ moves. 

That was your mistake. Well, that and you forgot how much slower you were than normal. 

Arat came at you with her knife, circling you with a smirk and a toss of her head. “Should have known it’d be you,” she snarled.

You raised an eyebrow at her. “Why won’t you die, already? Don’t you know I killed your boss?” 

She howled, and came barreling into you. Shit, shit, shit, maybe antagonizing the armed and dangerous woman while you were a bit gimpy wasn’t the best idea you’d ever had. 

You tried to get your gun up, but she was moving too fast. She knocked you backward, down the side hall you’d been hiding in, and your gun went flying when your wrist slammed into the door frame. You cried out, because it hurt, damn it; and because Arat had slammed into you like a goddamn linebacker. 

You were way too beat up for this, but apparently, it was happening anyway.

You manged to stay on your feet, barely, and clocked her across the face. Her head snapped back and you swung again, staggering her back a step this time. You scrambled at your knife on your belt, but she was back on you already. You were doing everything you could to stay on your feet and protect your already broken ribs. If she got a shot to them, you’d be down in agony before you could say ‘oh, shit’. Unfortunately, you were definitely outclassed right now. 

She was pissed and she wasn’t injured like you were, and it took her all of about six swings to figure out you were a mess. You watched her change tactics; switching from trying to hit your face and head to all body shots. 

She faked right with a jab and then shot a kick to your side that got past your guard, and you were down like a sack of Hilltop potatoes. 

 

She had a knife to your throat when the pain finally faded enough for you to see. Her arm was tight around you, holding you locked in place, and the sharp blade had nicked you a little already. 

“Easy now. Easy. We can work this out.” Jesus’ voice was calm and steady, but you heard the worry in it. 

Ugh. Everything hurt. Especially your pride. 

You were getting really tired of this bitch getting the better of you. 

“Come on, Arat. Give it up already. He’s dead,” you snarled at her, blinking the last of the darkness from your vision. 

Jesus, hands up and extended toward her, shot you an annoyed look. 

“Shut up, bitch!”Arat snarled in your ear. 

You laughed. “Why? You’re going to kill me, then Jesus will kill you. Or he’ll just break your arms and legs and save you for the Dixons. You really think there’s a way out of this where you live?” 

“Maybe not, but you’ll be dead too.” 

You shrugged. It had been a day, man, and you were tired of all this. Tired of the endless fighting that'd been your life since the prison fell. The Governor, the Claimers, Terminus, the Alexandrians, the W people, now the fucking Saviors- not to mention the shambling members of the Dead and Lovin' It Club- everyone seemed to want a piece of you. Well, too damn bad. You were fresh out of fucks to give.

“Whatever.” And also out of witty retorts, apparently. 

“Stop moving!” Arat’s attention had turned to Ninja Jesus, who’d taken a few steps closer. He froze instantly, and you evaluated the situation. 

If you could just get her to move the knife a fraction more, you could maybe do something. On the other hand, you were still beat up and she still wasn’t. Of course, you had Jesus. He was still a little too far away for comfort, however, even with all his ninja skills. 

Then you got an idea. 

A really, really bad idea. 

 

 

“So, did he ever fuck you? You know, before I slit his throat and cut his head off?” you asked conversationally, and Jesus gave you wild what-the-fuck eyes before you turned your attention to Arat. 

She made a wounded noise and jerked you around to put her face all up in yours. “I said, shut the hell up, bitch!” She screamed it at you, and you shrugged. 

“Gladly,” you answered, and you struck. 

You shot your head forward, slamming your forehead into her nose. She threw her head back- yay, plot successful!- and you snapped. 

Oh, God; oh God; oh God; it was- 

 

 

Sharp, metallic, bitter blood poured into your throat and over your body and you shoved her back, staggering away to puke over and over onto the carpet. Jesus was saying something; Jesus was moving, but you were ignoring everything in favor of trying desperately to spit every last bit of that taste from your mouth. 

You were going to need to brush your teeth for a goddamn week after that. How the hell did Cowboy do that and not end up in a fetal position later? 

Jesus, Mary, Joseph and the fucking camel! 

 

 

When you finally stopped puking and spitting, you swiped a hand over your mouth and came away with red streaked down your arm. 

“Are- are you ok?” Ninja Jesus’ voice was hesitant, and you looked up to find him staring at you, eyes wide. 

You thought for a minute. Your mouth was gross, you were covered in blood, everything hurt- so, typical day in paradise. Finally you nodded. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I’m good. Could use a shower. Come on, we need to see how everything’s going up front,” you told Jesus, but he didn’t move. 

You shrugged, turning around and looking for your gun. You tried very, very hard not to look at the body behind Jesus. 

“YN? YN?” 

Your head shot up at the sound of Daryl’s voice. “Dixon?” 

Running feet sounded on the floor, and Daryl appeared around the corner, gun up and Rick, Merle, and Michonne at his back. The four of them froze when they saw you and Jesus. And, you supposed, what was behind you. 

“Fuck, woman. What the hell happened?” Daryl asked, his eyes going from Arat’s body to you. You shrugged. 

“These guys slid through the trap. I came to stop them; Ninja found me. There was a scuffle. Arat got too close, so I had to take a page from Cowboy’s book. Bit her throat out,” you answered, casually. 

Rick and Michonne stared, but Daryl and Merle looked at each other and started to laugh. 

“Dixons get shit done,” Merle said when he could speak again, and you grinned at him.


	77. Welcome to A Brand-New World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> maniacal cackling at the idea of cannon  
> cannon typical violence

In a move so shocking it surprised even you- it had all gone according to plan. Most of the Saviors had given up just after you left to check the back, when Dwight had stabbed Simon brutally and then started shouting that he surrendered. 

Daryl told you in a private aside while Maggie and Rick addressed the assembled prisoners and color began to streak the dawn sky that he’d almost shot the bastard anyway. 

You muttered back that he probably should have, but there wasn’t any heart to it. You honestly didn’t care anymore. It was over. 

 

 

Well, not completely. Simon and Regina were dead and Dwight had surrendered, but that still left Gavin and Eugene to deal with, back at the Sanctuary. You were on the back of Daryl’s bike, despite his argument that since you were still very much injured you should stay behind. 

He’d glared as you stood at the gate, damp hair in a fresh braid and skin freshly scrubbed. Carl had taken one look at you and gone pale, and you'd had to reassure him that the blood was all the other person's. He'd started cracking cannibalism jokes already, but it was still too soon after Terminus for that shit. 

When you were old and grey it would still be too soon after Terminus for that.

“You got beat by Arat half an hour ago, woman!” 

“Well, we aren’t going there to fight, are we, Dixon?” you’d shot back, calm, reasonable, and utterly unmovable. "Also, I believe I won that one. Don't make me win this one the same way."

He’d glared; you’d glared; Merle’d laughed and said something aside to Rick about Dixon discussions being even more lively if there was biting involved. You and Daryl had eyed each other a minute longer, then Daryl’s lips had twitched and he’d sighed. 

“C’mmon then, ya damn fool woman,” he’d tried to snarl, but it lacked any real anger. You’d swung up behind him and pressed in close. 

“I love you, Dixon,” you’d whispered into his ear, and he’d tipped his head to yours as you rested your chin on his shoulder. 

 

 

Sanctuary surrendered without a fuss. Eugene was there waiting for you at the gates, and he swung them open without a word. 

You, Daryl, Merle, Rick, and Dwight stood and waited, arms crossed. 

“Gavin is dead. I am the top person in charge of this facility, and I willingly and humbly surrender it to your forces, and offer my life in exchange for the safety of those inside,” Eugene declared, eyes on the ground. 

Rick glanced at you. You shrugged and shook your head. 

Traitor or not, he could make bullets. And you were accepting surrenders today. One night and one night only- surrender was an option for your people. 

 

 

Alexandria was a wasteland. 

Ash drifted on the faint breeze, the smell of burned wood and plastic and fabric filling the air as you stared at what remained of another community you’d built. Daryl’s warm arm wrapped around you and you leaned into him, needed the comfort. 

“It’s aight, woman. Just a place. Walls are intact; people are all alive. We’ll rebuild,” he whispered, fingers moving over the bare skin of your arm in reassurance. You nodded against his shoulder. 

“Yeah. I know,” you whispered back. “Still hurts.” 

“I know.” 

 

 

Rick’s house was the only one still standing. 

You and the Dixons stood watch, dropping a few walkers still milling around in the streets, while Rick disappeared inside. You pointedly did not look at what remained of your house, but Merle let out a huge, overly-dramatic sigh. 

You glanced at him and raised an eyebrow. 

“Well, hell. Just realized my brew’s gone,” he said, eyes twinkling as he glanced your way. Daryl snorted beside you as you shook your head, trying not to laugh in spite of yourself. 

“Shit, Merle. More pissed about the box of condoms in our room,” Daryl muttered, and you lost it. 

The three of you were howling like loons when Rick came out, eyed you, and sighed. 

“Do I wanna know?” he asked, and you laughed harder. 

 

 

Tobin was dead. You’d lost some others, from all three communities, but Tobin was the one who hurt you the most. 

Jerry the Axe Man was going to have a wicked scar running across his head just above his ear. He’d gotten grazed but kept fighting at his king’s side. Ezekiel had needed stitches because he’d reopened an injury on his leg from the big guns at the outpost. Carol had bent over him, setting the stitches carefully as she fussed at him about being careful and being the king. You’d grinned when Ezekiel had leaned forward, placing a hand on her shoulder and told her he loved her too. Carol’s face had been priceless, and though your heart ached for Merle, you couldn’t help but be happy at the dazed look in Carol’s eyes. 

Kal, one of your favorites here at the Hilltop, probably wouldn’t lose the eye, but he wouldn’t be able to see out of it very well either. He and Carl were already making pirate jokes. Tara’d taken one to the shoulder, but she was set to make a full recovery. Rick and Rosita had a few relatively minor cuts and gashes, but that was it. 

You had been damn lucky. 

 

 

You buried your dead, doctored your wounded, and cleaned up the Hilltop. A little Council formed sort of organically within the first twenty four hours, as the three Dixons, Rick, Maggie, Ezekiel, and Jesus met in Maggie’s office to decide what to do next. 

You and Jesus exchanged a look and a smile, and you leaned forward in the chair Daryl had put you firmly into. 

“Well,” you said slowly. “Jesus and I have some ideas....” 

 

 

You rode with Daryl and Dwight, none of you speaking on the way. Dwight believed he was going to die, and he didn’t even try to talk either of you out of it. 

You could respect that. 

When you got there- though ‘there’ wasn’t really anywhere except pretty fuckin’ far from your communities- he jumped out of the truck without a word. You and Daryl did the same thing. 

Dwight stood with his back to you and his head bowed. “I want you to know, I’m sorry for what I did. To all of you. Everything I did, I did for Sherry. She’s gone, and that’s- that’s good. I’m ready. I got to see Negan killed and everything he built broken down. That’s enough. I’m ready.” 

You glanced at Daryl’s impassive face as Dwight turned slowly to face you and raised his face toward the sun, eyes closed. You took two steps forward, hauled back, and punched him square in the jaw. His eyes snapped open and he staggered back, bringing a hand up to touch his jaw as he eyed you, confused. 

“That’s for everything you did to Daryl. It should be worse, but- I get it. You were keeping your girl safe. Be pretty fucking hypocritical of us to kill you for that. Take these. Go find her, and don’t you ever come near us again.” You tossed the keys to the truck at his feet, and walked away. Daryl took your hand as you reached his side and walked into the woods with you. 

Merle was waiting a few miles away, leaning against one of the Hilltop’s armored cars, and he shook his head and laughed when you emerged with a buck over Daryl’s shoulders. 

 

 

There'd been one more group that needed killing, at least in your opinion. There was a mutiny of all hands, however, and you weren't allowed to go. When Daryl and Rick came back, they'd brought one person with them- Jadis. 

She introduced herself as Anne, now, and you'd looked at Daryl and raised your eyebrows significantly. 

"Simon killed her people," he told you quietly. "All of 'em. She's alone." 

Well, fuck. Guess she got to live.

 

 

Two days later, Rick came into the trailer you and the Dixon boys had been given. Technically, it was Jesus’ trailer, and you felt bad about once again displacing him. He’d laughed and waved you away, saying he was going to crash on the couch in Maggie’s office. He said he’d been doing that a lot since she took over, when he’d been in and out at all hours or when the two of them had been up late handling community business. 

“I need to talk to you three,” Rick said seriously, and your eyes narrowed. 

“I know that tone, Cowboy,” you muttered. “I’m not going to like this, am I?” 

“Probably not,” he agreed, hands on his belt and scuffing the floor with one foot. 

Oh shit. 

“Spit it out then, man,” Merle drawled, and Daryl’s hand came to rest against your back. 

“I need you guys to take over the Sanctuary,” Rick said after a pause. 

What. The hell? 

None of you said anything, but you felt a slight tremble in the hand Daryl rested on your back. 

“Why the fuck would we do that?” you finally snapped, and Rick sighed. He met your eyes as you glared. 

“It needs a leader. One of our people. The people there; they’ll respect you three. We’ve got to make them part of this. The laws, the treaties, the protections- it all has to apply to them. So we need someone we trust and they trust in charge. That’s you,” he answered with a tilt of his head toward you. 

No. Just- no. 

You were shaking your head rapidly in denial. “I’m not a leader, Rick.” 

Daryl snorted. “Give it up, woman. You’re the one makin’ this new civilization to begin with. We’ll do it.” 

You whirled on him. “The hell we will! You aren’t going back there!” 

“Don’t tell me what to do, woman,” he said mildly.

You put your hands to your face and screamed. This was not happening. There was no damn way you were moving him to the Sanctuary. Not after everything that had happened to him there. To you both. 

Hell, to all three of you, because Merle had been through some shit with those assholes too.

“Just- think it over. Talk about it. Give me an answer tomorrow,” Rick said, and retreated hastily when you turned toward him slowly. 

You slammed the door behind him and glared at your boys. 

 

 

The yelling lasted for about ten minutes before you realized they weren’t going to back down. Both of them wanted to go. They wanted to. 

You didn’t get it. 

“I don’t understand,” you whispered finally, staring at them with tears in your eyes. “They tortured you both there. Why do you want to go back?” 

“It ain’t about goin’ back, little sister,” Merle answered, running his hand over his hair wearily. “It’s about rebuildin’. All this sustainability and civilization shit you’ve been spoutin’ at us for however long now. There’s good people there. Good people just tryin’ to stay alive under Negan. I want to help them.” 

Daryl nodded. “You can help them, woman. We can, together. Rick’s right; we’re the ones they’ll respect. But Merle and I, we ain’t leaders. You are. We need ya. But it’s all or no one. You gotta be on board, too. Dixons stick together.” 

You closed your eyes and pressed the heels of your hands over them. A few breaths in and you sighed. 

“Ok,” you agreed finally. “Ok. I guess I'm a fucking leader.”


	78. All the Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannon who?

A lot could change in a year. Enemies could become friends; wastelands could become thriving towns again. Settlements could be built up and then abandoned. Babies could be born; people could die. 

A lot could change in a year, you mused. Wasn’t it wonderful that these people never did? 

Your whole crazy family was gathered in Rick’s house, noisy and laughing conversations being held all over, and you smiled as you watched it all. 

 

Alexandria had taken six months to rebuild; the exact amount of time it had taken for you and the Dixons to realize maintaining the Sanctuary was a futile effort. The place simply had no way of sustaining itself, and you risked valuable time, fuel, and people every time supplies had to be brought it. 

Rick had argued stubbornly that it was worth it to have another base, but eventually he’d been overruled. When Alexandria was finished, you and the Dixons had moved back into the house next door to Rick’s, and you couldn’t have been happier about it. 

The three of you had done what Rick had asked. You’d integrated the Saviors into the communities, and before you’d closed the gate to Sanctuary for the last time, you’d given them all a choice. They’d split themselves between the other four locations in your little coalition. 

That’s right, four. Not long after the Battle for Hilltop, Aaron and Tara had headed back to Oceanside, taking their guns back to them as promised. Natania had died during the war, and Tara’s friend Cyndie was in charge now. Cyndie had signed the Peace Treaty you and Jesus had drafted in Hilltop’s cupola before the battle without any hesitation, and trade agreements had followed. 

As soon as you’d closed the Sanctuary, you’d adopted the kind of role that Jesus had, part mediator, part messenger, part voice of reason. He was delighted to have you, spending more than a little time sitting on your couch drinking Merle's latest batch of whatever he cooked up in the attic and bitching about leaders who only looked out for their own people. There was a Council of seven now: Rick for Alexandria, Maggie for the Hilltop, Ezekiel for the Kingdom, Cyndie for Oceanside, you and Jesus as moderators and overseers of the whole thing. The final edition was, to his surprise and delight, Carl. 

Because someone needed to speak for the future. He was pretty damn good at it. 

 

Little Hershel Glenn Rhee was six months old and burbling happily in your arms as you watched the ceremony. Merle was grinning from ear to ear as he looked from Rick to Michonne, and when he pronounced them husband and wife, you all cheered. Even Hershel. 

Daryl stood at Rick’s side, like Rick had at his, and smiled at you. 

Then it was time to party. 

 

Now you were leaning in the corner, under Daryl’s arm, letting the noise of your crazy family wash over you. You leaned against him and closed your eyes, a smile on your lips even as you swayed on your feet. 

“Ya aight, woman?” Daryl whispered to you, and you drug your eyes open reluctantly. 

“Yeah,” you said back. “Just tired, I guess.” 

“Come on. We’ll head home,” he said, pulling you with him. “Yo, Rick! Takin’ my girl home. You crazy kids have fun tonight,” he added with a wink. 

Michonne blushed as everyone laughed. Rick grinned lazily at Daryl. 

“I plan to,” he answered, running his fingers down his new wife’s arm. She rolled her eyes and smacked the back of his head as Carl groaned. 

“Eww, Dad, gross!” 

Daryl pulled you out the door as the laughter rang out again. 

 

The night was warm and quiet, and his hand felt good around yours as you strolled toward your door. Light and noise spilled from Rick’s house beside yours, and you loved, loved that your whole clan was here in one place. 

But you also wanted these few peaceful minutes with Daryl alone. It seemed like you never had peaceful minutes for long, and you’d learned to enjoy them while you could. 

So you pulled him over to the porch and leaned on the railing, and he slipped his arms around you from behind, chin on your shoulder. 

“Hey, woman. Somethin’ on your mind?” he asked softly. You wound your fingers through his and sighed. 

“It’s been a year, Dixon. A year.” 

“Yeah,” he answered slowly. “Lot’s changed.” 

You grinned as he echoed your own thoughts. “They haven’t,” you said with a nod at Rick’s house, where light and laughter spilled from the windows. 

Daryl chuckled. “Naw. They won’t. Us neither,” he added with a whispered kiss against your neck. You shivered a little. 

“No. Us neither,” you agreed, eyes closing as he kissed your neck again, little light touches up to your cheek. 

“Why didn’t ya tell them?” he asked. 

You shrugged. “Tonight was about Rick and Michonne. Timing wasn’t right. Tomorrow.” 

“Mmm. Tomorrow,” he agreed, and spun you around to claim your lips with his.

 

You woke up tangled in his arms and happy. His fingers in your were in your hair, your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. 

There’d be problems at your door eventually. Probably in a matter of hours. 

But there’d be smiles and laughter, too, since your family were all here for two more days, before everyone had to go their separate ways. Carol, Ezekiel, Morgan, and Jerry would go back to the Kingdom. Maggie, Hershel, Siddiq, and Jesus would go back to the Hilltop. Tara, Eugene, and Rosita would go to Oceanside. 

You and Daryl and Merle would be going out on a three-week run as well. Carl, Rick, Michonne, Judith, Enid and Aaron would stay here in Alexandria. Your family would be scattered to the winds, and you’d be worried about them all. 

But it wouldn't be long before you saw them again. 

 

You slipped from the bed and left Daryl sleeping. You shrugged into one of his shirts and headed downstairs, barefoot and hair loose. 

That alone was a sign of the peace that had come to your communities. There was a time when you’d have had your shoes on and weapons on your hip before you even left your room. There was a time when being unarmed, even in your home, would have made your shoulders tight with worry. 

Not anymore. 

Now you headed into the kitchen and found Merle humming and cooking breakfast. 

“Mornin’, little sister,” he said as you approached and leaned on the counter beside him. “Want some eggs?” 

“Can’t believe we finally found some damn chickens for Alexandria,” you said with a grin, sneaking a bite from the pan before Merle slapped at your hand. “Maggie gloated for like three weeks when Bertie wouldn’t give us any of theirs.” 

“Yeah. Them hormones’ll make ya right bitchy,” Merle said with a laugh. “Glad she’s got that baby now. He’s the spittin’ image of Glenn.” 

“Yeah,” you agreed softly, getting sad at the thought of Glenn. Speed Racer’s absence was still felt keenly, like everyone else you’d lost. 

Abraham. Sasha. Denise. Bob. Tyreese. Lori. Andrea. Hershel. Beth. Dale. T Dog. Noah. Tobin.

You’d lost so many, and it could still sneak up and steal the breath from you for a moment. 

“Hey, now, girlie. Didn’t mean to make ya sad. Today’s a happy day,” Merle said, touching your cheek and wiping away a tear. You blinked more from your eyes and smiled at him. 

“Yeah. Yeah, sorry, big brother. It is a happy day.” You paused and he raised an eyebrow at you, knowing you well enough to know more was coming. “Must be the damn hormones.” 

Merle blinked and gave you a long look. “What the hell’s that mean, baby sister?” he demanded, and you started to laugh. 

“Means you’re gonna be an uncle, Uncle Merle,” you told him, and he froze for a minute.

Suddenly you were off your feet, laughing as Merle spun you in a circle before setting you back down and sniffing back some tears of his own. 

“You told him, didn’t ya?” Daryl’s voice was thick with sleep still, but there was an edge of pleased pride to it that had you grinning at him from Merle’s arms. 

Merle let go of you and strode over to his brother. “I’m happy for ya. Gonna be the best daddy in the world, baby brother,” he said, and pulled a surprised looking Daryl in for a hug. 

“Thanks, man,” Daryl whispered back, and you grinned as Merle turned to look at you. 

“Get in on this, girlie!” 

 

You told Carl next, if unintentionally. He came walking into the house without knocking- as usual; you'd think he'd have learned after than one time he'd found more than he'd bargained for in the living room- and found you puking your guts up in the downstairs bathroom. 

“Troublemaker? You ok?” he asked, watching anxiously from the doorway. You held up a hand for him to wait as your stomach heaved again. 

Once you knew you were done, you leaned back, exhausted, and flashed him a grin. “I’m good, Grimes.” 

“You sure?” he asked, and you looked up at him. 

“Oh yeah. You're gonna be a big brother again, kid.” 

 

Rick and Michonne were next, as you and Daryl headed out hand in hand. There was a lot of hugging, crying, and backslapping, which drew the attention of the others. Soon your whole family was gathered in the street laughing and talking and trying to hug and congratulate the two of you. You clung to Daryl’s hand, determined not to let him sneak off and leave you alone like he'd done when he'd proposed. 

Of course, he managed to. When you finally extricated yourself from your family’s loving, suffocating, maddening embraces- Maggie, Carol, and Rick had all ganged up and started telling you pregnancy horror stories pretty much immediately; Christ Almighty- with the help of Ninja Jesus covering your exit with a wink and an innocent smile, you went looking for him. 

You found him easily enough, half under his motorcycle by the gate. Merle was nearby, talking to Bruce on watch, pointing to the clipboard that Merle used to keep track of watch rotation. He’d slipped back into his role as head of security easily, and Rick relied on him pretty heavily. 

Far cry from the story you’d heard about their first meeting, when Merle’d been high as kite and punched Rick out before going on to punch pretty much everyone else until Rick clocked him with the barrel of a shotgun and handcuffed him to the roof. 

God, Atlanta’d been a long ass time ago. And you hadn’t even been there then. 

“Hey, Dixon,” you called, and Daryl looked up at you as you stood over him and crossed your arms. “Anyone ever tell you you’re kind of an asshole?” 

He laughed, long and loud and real, and grinned up at you. “All the time, woman.”


	79. Epilogue

Merle had managed to save the beat-up Polaroid from the day you and Daryl got married. You never would get a straight answer from him on who had taken the picture or how he’d managed to keep it through everything. That was ok, though. You liked a little mystery. 

He added two more to it, and as far as you knew, he never left home without them. 

The first you didn’t know he’d taken- a habit it seemed he’d picked up from somewhere. It was from the day your baby was born: a healthy, pretty, delightful little girl with a set of lungs on her that caused Merle to joke almost immediately upon her arrival that she was all set to have some Dixon discussions of her own. 

You’d been exhausted and sweaty and happy and did you mention exhausted? Yeah, ‘cause you were.

In the photo, though, all that showed was the happy. You were looking down at her in your arms and smiling softly, and Daryl’s hand rested on her head. You loved it, and would have stolen it from Merle in a heartbeat if he’d ever left it anywhere you could find. 

The second photo you’d actually known had been taken. It’d been snapped at Rick and Michonne’s wedding, and Carl’d been the one to do it. You’d forgotten all about it until you saw Merle smiling down at it one day while you were out with him on a long run, something you did as often as you felt you could pry yourself away. You, Daryl, and Merle had started taking turns after the baby was born, making sure one adult Dixon was always home with the littlest member of the clan. 

This one was of the three of you. Merle’s head was back, expression so cheerful and clear you could hear his raucous laughter when you saw it. He had his hand on Daryl’s shoulder and Daryl was looking at Merle, his exasperation visible in the image. You were between the two of them, grinning, leaning into Merle’s side as you cracked up at whatever he’d said. Daryl’s fingers were wrapped around yours, and both of you had your bows slung over your backs.

 

Years later, many good and happy and laughter-filled years, you’d find those three photos in his hand when he died. You’d hold them close and cry at the faded faces, laughing and smiling and young. You’d run a finger down the bloodstained edges of them, the creases that rendered them almost impossible to make out, and think about how much love had to go into carrying them with him all those years. 

You'd slip them into your pocket, pick up your knife, and grab Daryl’s hand. The two of you would nod at each other, kiss each other one last time, and throw yourselves into the fray, even though you knew it was hopeless. After all, Dixons stick together. 

Even in the end. 

 

Or maybe not. 

Maybe, the world would be fixed one day. The three of you would be heroes in your new society, growing old and grey surrounded by all your loved ones and their families. When your times finally came, you wouldn’t have to worry about turning into walkers, about inflicting that horrible second death on your loved ones, because the virus or mutation or whatever had been cured by some smarty-pants scientist out there who talked like Eugene but didn’t have hair anywhere near as good. 

You didn’t know yet. Whichever way the story ended, you did know one thing: 

Rick once said you were the walking dead. 

Rick was a dramatic idiot sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End. 
> 
>  
> 
> This has been a wild ride to write, and you have no idea how grateful I am for each and every comment, kudos, bookmark. I love you all so, so much, and I hope you enjoyed Just A Survivor as much as I enjoyed creating it! 
> 
> Love you all! 
> 
> -JustRamblinOn


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